


Deuxsphere

by sweetlullabies



Series: Deuxsphere [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Mild Smut, Rich Harry, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, exciting right, harry has an unhealthy obsession with sunglasses and sparkling water, harry talks to the universe a lot, louis is in a band, obviously i love making up characters, ok, omg i almost forgot this is a SOULMATE AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:50:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 156,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlullabies/pseuds/sweetlullabies
Summary: The way the vines of the rose curled around the sharp straightness of the dagger was an image that was going to be forever embedded into his mind.  The longer Harry craned his neck to look at it in the mirror, the more he realized—it was fucking creepy.  He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why it was there, or why humans decided to make it mean something.Harry's first year at uni is guaranteed to be a breeze as long as he stays focused, steers clear of flying footballs, and completely avoids boys who are in bands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for considering this story, and here we go:
> 
> This fic is finished. I've written it all on Microsoft Word and it is 154,000 words total. Don't ever think I've abandoned this fic, because I haven't. I have to take time in between the days I update in order to revise chapters. 
> 
> I imagined all the boys to be young and to, appearance-wise, resemble themselves during the tmh (2013) era, but you can picture them anyway you like. 
> 
> Pretty much every character is made up except for the actual boys and Louis and Harry's sisters. Every other character besides them is not real. Also, nothing in this story has anything to do with any of the real life boys.
> 
> Finally, this fic requires lots of patience and being able to "bear with" the characters as they take some time to figure themselves out, so think about whether that's your cup of tea or not before you decide to read this! This story is not straight to the Larry and it takes a while to build the plot! Patience!
> 
> and i... believe that's about it. happy reading!

 

 

“Do you think they’re dying?  Do they look like they need water?” Harry asked, glancing behind him at Cecile.  He held the petals of one of the flowers as he waited for her answer.

“They look fine,” Cecile said as she swung her feet.  She was sat on the swinging bench in Harry’s apartment balcony, reading a magazine she had picked up in the lobby.

“You’re not even looking,” Harry said with a frown, his eyes shielded by black sunglasses.

“I looked at them as soon as we stepped out here,” Cecile said as the wind lightly blew her hair.  “Why would they give you such an expensive apartment without even checking to make sure the mini garden is healthy and beautiful?”

Harry chuckled as he turned back to pick at the different kinds of flowers in the pots, set along the railing of his balcony.  It was a very nice touch; the mini garden alone had immediately made Harry’s decision for him when he was looking for a place to live.  Well, the mini garden and the perfect media center up high to place his widescreen television in.  He scrunched up his nose as he thought about the unfortunate students that would have to live in dorms.

“Are those tiger lilies?” Cecile asked from where she was sitting, still swaying on the bench.

“I think so,” Harry replied, stroking the petal of the exotic orange flower.  “It’s orange, like your hair.”  He turned back around to Cecile, grinning as she looked back at him.

“My hair is _not_ orange,” she said with a giggle, whilst shaking her head.  “It’s more reddish than orange-ish.”

“Whatever you say, flower,” he replied, his dimple popping out.  “I want Calla lilies.  Do you think my dad would get me them if I asked?”

“There’s not much he wouldn’t do for you, Harry,” Cecile replied.  “If you asked for a special fruit made only in Guam, he would already have a plane ticket ready.”

Harry chuckled.  “That’s not true.  It may be true for my mum though, but not quite for my dad.  He would at least put up some sort of fight.”  Cecile hummed in response as she flipped the pages of the magazine.

Harry stepped away from the flowers for a moment, taking in the balcony around him and how beautiful it was.  He looked down below at the city full of cars and people making their way to where they needed to be.  He liked the feeling of knowing he could come out here whenever he liked, just to enjoy the calm atmosphere and appreciate a warm summer breeze.  He was definitely going to get through his first year of university with ease.

He kept saying that in his mind, hoping it would be true.  He looked into his bedroom through the glass doors of the balcony, and he let out a sigh.  His bedroom back at his mum’s house had been bigger, but this would have to do.  Looking at everything and enjoying the fact that he actually had a spacious area to live, made him forget that he would still have to be going to lectures and taking tests.

He walked the few feet over to Cecile and sat by her, taking a look at what she was reading in the magazine through his sunglasses.

“Which boy band member are you?  Seriously?” Harry asked mockingly, causing Cecile to reach out and pinch his cheek.

“These are things I need to know,” she replied with a giggle, her hand still softly gripping his cheek.  Her facial features turned serious as she looked at him.  “You’re okay, right?  The whole college thing isn’t freaking you out?”

“Nope.  It’s just like high school, but with more free time, I’ve heard,” Harry said with a shrug.

“There’s lots of good programs offered here.  Harry, you’ll love it,” she said, giving his cheek one last squeeze before letting go.

“I’m not having doubts,” Harry said with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees.  “And yeah, lots of good programs, and stuff.”  He knew he hadn’t done any research on the university apart from finding out what the food in the cafeteria looked like.  All he knew was that he was here, and he had another ten months to go before falling right back into another year of endless education.

He was glad Cecile didn’t bring up the concern that he may miss her while going to school.  She didn’t go to his university, because they both knew it would’ve been too drastic to change her schooling plan at the last minute just because she’d met some boy over the summer.  They met at a summer banquet arranged by his dad and all of his friends, and Harry had immediately fallen into easy conversation with her.  They spent many weekends together, and Harry couldn’t have been happier about how festive she’d made his summer.  He was very fortunate her university was less than a forty minute drive away.

“I might transfer here,” Cecile said with a huff of breath, her eyebrow raised.  Harry shoved her lightly, causing her to giggle.

“Very funny,” he replied.

“No, but seriously,” she said.  “If everything’s still…alright with us after our first year, I see no reason not to.”

“That does make sense,” Harry said with a shrug, brushing her hair out of her face.  He pulled her in so that her head rested against his shoulder.

Harry really did not have a problem with her not being there.  As much as he adored her, at the end of the day, he was still an introvert and desired time to himself.  There was no problem, because they could still see each other often.  Harry was pretty sure their relationship wouldn’t be affected at all.

“Ugh, I’m so not ready to move in.  So much unpacking and organizing,” Cecile said with a huff.

“Just have someone do it for you.  ‘S what I did,” Harry replied, stroking her hair.

“I don’t have money I can just throw around, charging people to unpack my stuff,” Cecile said with a smirk.  “And you literally _needed_ help.  You practically moved your entire room, Harry.”

“I couldn’t decide what I wanted to leave at my mum’s house and what I wanted to take,” Harry replied.

“Of course you couldn’t,” Cecile said with a laugh, poking Harry’s chest.  “You even brought your own water.”

“I don’t like regular bottled water.  You know that,” Harry said with a scrunched up nose.  “I only drink sparkling water, and the specific kind I get, you can’t get anywhere else.”

“Mosi Sparkling?  Yeah, that stuff _is_ good,” she said, nodding her head.

“No way I was leaving without it,” Harry replied.

Cecile looked up at him while Harry continued to stroke her hair.  “You’re so cute when you get all serious about simple things.”

“This is _not_ a simple thing,” Harry said with a laugh.  He pressed a kiss into her forehead before continuing.  “Water brand is vital to my health.  I _am_ fifty percent water, after all.”

Cecile let out an airy laugh, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at Harry.  “What was I doing with my life before I met you?”

“Waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet,” Harry replied, pushing his sunglasses back so that they rested in his hair.

Cecile’s phone vibrated in her lap, and she let out a light whine before unlocking it and reading what was on the screen.

“Guess I’ve gotta go.  Tricia forgot her key, as always,” she said with a sigh.  She stood up and dusted off her sundress.

“That’s okay,” Harry said, reaching out his hand so he could lace it with Cecile’s and pull her closer.

Cecile leaned down and pressed a single kiss to his lips.  “See you later, babe,” she said with a wave and a wink, and then she was gone through the glass doors.  Harry grinned as he watched her leave, and his expression still didn’t change once she was gone.  She was truly amazing, in every sense of the word, and Harry was lucky to have her.  She never overstepped any boundaries, made Harry do anything he didn’t want to do, or even pestered him about little things he did.

He decided it was his time to go inside too, because it was starting to gradually grow darker outside.  He stepped inside into his bedroom and slid the doors to the balcony shut.  He took the few steps toward his king sized bed and flopped down on it with a sigh.

He thought of no better way to celebrate his first day of college being the next day, than to take a nap.  It would be a celebratory nap, to congratulate himself on not having to stay in the nasty dorms during his freshman year of college.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his arms, letting out a long and relaxed breath.  He thought back to when he changed schools during his tenth grade year in high school.  It was intimidating, even though he literally had nothing to be scared about.  He had feared not making any new friends and being alone at lunch, but his worries meant nothing, because immediately, students had started flocking to him like he was magnetic.  Now that he was going to a university that wasn’t even in his hometown, he felt like maybe this was the same thing—he would have to worry about making new friends that didn’t already have their own group of people.  Except he really didn’t give a shit.  If people wouldn’t like him or talk to him the next day, he really didn’t care, because he preferred to be alone anyway.  This wasn’t like high school, where he was worried about fitting in; he had changed since then.

He had lived with his mum, and no matter how many different colleges sent letters to him, he couldn’t decide where he wanted to go.  Hell, he still couldn’t even decide whether he wanted salmon or maroon curtains, so how could he have possibly decided on where to study for the next decade?  He and his mum had come to an eventual agreement, arranging for Harry to go to uni closer to his dad, which Harry had no problem with.  Harry thought it was because both his mum and his dad couldn’t bear to handle Harry being out there in the real world with no one to hold on to, but he tried not to think about it too much.  His dad’s mansion was about an hour drive away, so he wasn’t unbearably close.

It had only been a few days, but it was already weird living without his mum.  He’d lived with her for all his life; she’d always just _been_ there, and now she was a plane ride away.  Harry knew he would get used to it, but he still couldn’t help thinking about it.

He kind of liked the feeling of knowing his parents weren’t ready to let him fly free and fiend for himself.  It reassured him that they wouldn’t cut him off anytime soon, leaving him completely broke.

Harry let out a yawn as he thought about the year ahead of him.  It wouldn’t be so bad.

His thoughts gradually quieted as he fell asleep.

 

~*~

 

The next day, everything went exactly how Harry expected it to.  He went to each of his classes on time and with no problems, and he was already starting to like it more than high school.  There was _way_ more flexibility, and he didn’t even have to annoyingly share what he did over the summer.

He didn’t attempt to make any new friends, because he didn’t feel a desire to, but he did get quite a few looks from different people as he maneuvered his way around the campus.  By the end of the day, he’d gotten quite used to guys and girls looking him up and down.  He just slid on his sunglasses and made his way to where he needed to be, unaffected by these looks of interest.

Even the professors were cool and much more lenient than high school teachers, which Harry wasn’t expecting.  He’d always thought university would be the place where professors really buckled down and went hard on students, but it seemed to be the exact opposite.  One of the professors even told him to tell his dad they said “hi”.

Harry was in the library, browsing through different books in the aisles, but mostly wanting to find a genuinely quiet atmosphere to escape the piercing sound of girls shrieking every time they saw their friends.

As he was tracing the spine of one of the older books, he spotted Zayn in one of the further aisles, flipping through the pages of what appeared to be a study guide.  His hair had blonde highlights in it, which was new, and he was wearing an indigo sweatshirt.  Harry pushed his glasses back into his hair and made his way over to him.

Zayn was the one person he knew he would have for sure at university, if worse came to worst and he ever desperately needed someone to hang out with.  He’d known Zayn since he was thirteen, because their parents had been friends with each other.  When Harry wasn’t spending time with Cecile during the summer, he had been with Zayn.  Harry honestly thought Zayn was a pretty cool guy.  He was a little over the top at times, though.

“Surely, you’re not actually reading a book in the library,” Harry said, coming up behind Zayn.

Zayn immediately turned around with bright eyes, quickly pulling Harry into a crushing hug.  “I’ve been looking for you all day!”

Harry hugged him back just as tight.  “We have a class together!  Did you not see me?” Harry asked, before getting shushed by a lady nearby.

“Nope.  Guess I was too stressed by this big ass campus to actually focus on anything else,” Zayn said with a laugh, sliding the book he was reading back in its place.

“So?  What’s going on with you?  Do you like your classes and stuff?” Zayn asked, guiding Harry down the aisle.

“I mean, they’re _classes_ , but I think I’ll be able to get through them.  What about you?” Harry asked as he and Zayn sat down at a library table full of students.  The library was very busy for some reason, but still relatively quiet.

“I don’t know.  Professor Kane kinda rubs me the wrong way,” Zayn replied, Harry nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, she was kinda creepy.  She talked so sharp and powerful it made me feel like she was casting a spell,” Harry said.  Zayn immediately went into a laughing fit, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Harry.  Now that you’ve said that, that’s going to be all I think about when I’m in her class.”

“What?  It’s true,” Harry laughed.

“You don’t know how psyched I am that you’re here!  It’s like seventh grade all over again!” Zayn said.

“I know.  I’m so relieved I don’t have to spend time properly introducing myself to anyone,” Harry said exhaustedly.

“C’mon.  You can’t only know me,” Zayn replied, nudging Harry.  “You can’t get through the whole year without getting to know anyone else.”

“Wanna bet?” Harry asked.

“C’mon, Harry.  There’s a beginning-of-the year kickback thing on Roseweather Field this Saturday.  Everyone’s gonna be there.  It’s the perfect opportunity to meet new people!”

Harry squinted his eyes in concentration, trying to think of where he’d heard of something called “Roseweather Field” before. He blinked slowly once it came to him. “My dad owns that venue.”

“Exactly,” Zayn said slowly, nodding his head.  “It would be stupid of you not to come.  There’s this awesome cover band that goes here called The Red Rogue, and they’re playing there tomorrow.  It’s gonna be awesome, I’m telling you.”

“Honestly, if by chance I had been thinking of going, I’ve changed my mind, because I don’t feel like torturing my ears by listening to a cover band with a name like The Red Rogue.  What a joke,” Harry said, running his fingers through his hair.

“They’re good,” Zayn said with frustration.

“They’re local,” Harry countered, letting out one last laugh.  “Anyway, I’ll probably spend that day with Cecile.”

“Oh, you’re still with her?  You guys still good?”

“We’re perfectly fine.  I don’t feel sad about the distance at all,” Harry replied.

“You guys are so smitten.  I could never keep a long distance relationship like that,” Zayn said with a shake of his head.

“She’s literally a forty minute drive away,” Harry replied, a bored expression on his face.

“Still too far,” Zayn said.

“You are impossible,” Harry said with a chuckle.  His laugh turned into a frown as he reflected on the conversation they’d just had.  “I’m actually a bit offended that you ask _am I still with her_ , like you expect us to break up or something.”

Zayn said nothing and bit the inside of his cheek, and Harry rolled his eyes, because he knew exactly what Zayn was thinking about.

“Oh my God, this is about that stupid soulmates thing, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

“It’s not stupid,” Zayn replied sharply.  “It’s real.  My aunt and her husband are soulmates, and they’ve been in love ever since the day they met.”

“Are you hearing yourself?  Do you not realize how fake that sounds?” Harry asked, laughing.

“Okay, then.  Explain the fucking tattoo on your upper back,” Zayn said challengingly.

Harry did have a tattoo on his upper back; a red rose with a dagger piercing through it, but he tried not to acknowledge it too often.  It wasn’t too big, and never really caused him any problems.

“I’m convinced someone stamped it there when I was fresh out the womb,” Harry lied, resting his head on his fist.  He honestly didn’t know how to explain why it was there.  Everyone on earth had a different design of ink embedded on their skin from when they were born, and no one really knew why.  Harry was definitely not going to spend his whole life stressing over trying to figure it out.

“It doesn’t wash off, Harry.  That’s gotta mean something,” Zayn said, pushing up his sleeve to expose the tattoo on his elbow.

“Whatever you say, Zayn,” Harry replied, reaching out to mess with Zayn’s hair.  Zayn rolled his eyes at him fondly.

Harry didn’t believe in the soulmate thing for many reasons, but one stood out the most.  He knew that even if his so-called _soulmate_ had the exact same print on their back in the exact same place, there was no chance of finding them out of seven billion people in the world.  It was simply impossible.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't murder me okay i know cecile is annoying for some of you


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Harry stepped out of his bathroom, wrapping the towel around his waist as tiny drops continued to fall from his skin.  He felt refreshed and clean from using the peppermint scented shower gel he’d been meaning to try out ever since he’d bought.

He grabbed the small towel hanging off of his full-length mirror, and scrunched it in his wet hair.  He turned around to make his way over to his closet, but paused before he could actually walk.  The tattoo on his back caught his eye, as it often did from time to time, and Harry stopped to just look at in the mirror.  It was always there; it had always _been_ there.  He looked at it in as much detail as he could.  He knew it so well that he could probably draw it on a sheet of paper just using his memory.  The way the vines of the rose curled around the sharp straightness of the dagger was an image that was going to be forever embedded into his mind.  The longer Harry craned his neck to look at it in the mirror, the more he realized—it was fucking creepy.  He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why it was there, or why humans decided to make it mean something.

He glanced at Cecile, reclined on his bed, scrolling through her phone.  He then turned back to the mirror, running a quick finger over the print before turning away from the mirror and trying not to cringe.

“I see you’re very interested in your tattoo,” Cecile said, turning to face him and raising her eyebrows.  “Having fun there?”

“It’s not—I’m not interested in it.  It means nothing to me.  It’s just kinda creepy,” Harry said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  “I find it creepy that it’s just there, on my body, and it always has been.  Isn’t that weird?”

“I mean, it has a purpose.  It’s not just some random thing,” Cecile said, sitting up on the bed.  Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

“What?” she asked guiltily, trying not to laugh.

“You’re supposed to indulge in how stupid it is with me,” Harry said, blinking at her.

“Um, Becca’s parents have matching tattoos, Harry.  I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” she started.  “Believe me when I tell you, they are deeply in love.”

“How do you know they didn’t just get the tattoos after they _fell in love_?” Harry asked.

“Because…”Cecile started, clearly contemplating a good answer to that question.  She picked up a pillow and threw it at Harry playfully.  “Becca wouldn’t lie to me.”

“She’s trying to fool you,” Harry said, throwing the pillow back at her.  Cecile laughed as the pillow hit her face, and Harry bit back an amused grin.  She smiled at him, her hair messy and her eyeliner smeared from having accidentally slept in makeup.  Harry frowned.

“Why are you even defending this?  You _do_ know that we don’t have the same tattoos, right?” he asked as he got back up and stood in front of the mirror again.  He didn’t turn around to look at the tattoo, though.  He wouldn’t look at it again for a long time.

Cecile chuckled as she pushed herself off the bed.  “I believe that the tattoo thing may be legit, but not for everyone,” she said as stepped in between the mirror and Harry.  She wrapped her arms around him, her chin on his chest as she looked up at him.   “No stupid piece of ink would make me doubt how I feel about you.”

Harry grinned down at her, playing with a strand of her hair.  She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his chest as she smiled.

“Good to know you’re not completely mad,” Harry said.

Cecile hummed as she pushed up the sleeve of her training jacket, stroking the abstract tattoo on her wrist.  “I think mine is really cute, though.  I don’t hate mine like you hate yours.”

“I think you like it more than me,” Harry said, reaching out to gently grab her wrist.  “Do you have the number of a nearby tattoo removal shop?”

Cecile shoved him back, a carefree laugh escaping her mouth.  “You know they can’t be removed,” she said as she chuckled.  “They’re permanent.”

 

~*~

 

Harry was having trouble adjusting to all the free time he had in college, which he never thought he would have a problem with.  There was still a lot to do, but too much time to procrastinate.

He decided to make a schedule for himself so that he could plan out his time wisely.  He was in the nearby coffee shop, just having ordered a latte, and whipped out his laptop so he could construct an amazing schedule.

He was stuck on whether he should provide himself three hours for a nap or four, when his dad called and pulled him away from his schedule-making.

“Hello?” Harry asked as he placed his phone by his ear.

“Harry!” his dad said happily.

“Hi!” Harry replied, equally as happily.

“You haven’t even called me since your school year started.”

“I swear I was planning on it,” Harry claimed as he closed his laptop.  “I didn’t want it to seem like I was completely helpless and lonely.”

“So how has it been going so far?” his dad asked.

“It’s alright.  It’s gonna take some getting used to, but I think I’ll be fine,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Alright.  Just remember that you can come to me if you need anything.  I’m only a drive away.”

“Thanks, but remember I’ve got Zayn here.  I’m sure he can help me with any problems I’m having, but if he can’t, I promise I’ll come to you,” Harry said with a laugh.

“That’s fair.  Remember not to take this year for granted, Harry.  You’re there for a reason.  Keep your grades up and take advantage of the amazing programs and opportunities they offer there.”

“Okay dad, got it,” Harry said, nodding his head.  He looked up to find a small group of girls giggling at him as they stood by the counter.  His cheeks went red.

“I just want to make sure you have the best experience for your first year,” his dad said.

“I know, but I’m not a little kid.  I don’t need to hang onto my parents’ pant legs through everything.”

“I understand,” his dad replied.  “Okay, Harry. I’ll talk to you later.  Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Harry mumbled quickly into the phone before hanging up.

Harry naturally took upon the same routine every day, and it mostly included classes, talking to Cecile, talking to Zayn, and then taking naps because he had nothing better to do.  He was fine with it, because at least it meant he would never fall asleep in class.

Harry was one of the first few to walk into his calculus lecture, and he took a seat near the middle, as he often did.  It was the perfect spot, because the teacher couldn’t pay special attention to him for being in the front, nor label him as a slacker for being in the last row.

He pulled his notebook out of his bag and started looking over what he had scribbled down in class the day before, making sure he could commit everything to memory.  More students started filling the room as he continued to flip the pages of his notebook and scribble down things he would need to remember.

He was scanning over the Table of Integrals when he was interrupted by the extremely annoying sound of someone drumming pencils against the edge of the table.

“I’m telling you!  It was crazy!” one of the guys said obnoxiously loud, pushing himself up to sit on top of the table Harry was at. He had on a leather jacket, and his dark brown hair was styled in an undercut.  Harry’s ears rang with every loud cackle that escaped his mouth.

“No way you did all of that in one summer!” the other guy said, equally as loud.  He was the one drumming on the table, and Harry used every ounce of strength in order to restrain from telling them off.

“It was massive!” the first guy replied, his attention shifting to some girl that walked by the table.  He asked her how her summer was, and Harry watched as she grew flustered and replied to his question.  The brown haired guy did that to a few other people as they walked by, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how he knew so many people.

The two guys got into a playful argument of some sort, resulting in the two of them roughhousing and ramming each other into the floor, all while being horribly noisy.  Harry took a deep breath as he watched them, gripping onto his pencil tightly.

It was when the guy with the undercut turned to Harry, that Harry looked back down at his notes.  Harry tuned them out as they began to talk to other people, socializing with ease and being incredibly irritating.  He tuned them out so well, that he didn’t even realize when one of them spoke to him.

“You coming?” the brown haired guy asked, and Harry blinked his eyes at him.

“To what?” Harry asked, his face fixed in confusion.

Both of the guys glanced at each other for a moment, and then chuckled, causing Harry to press his lips together.

“The hangout at Roseweather Field this weekend?” he asked.

“No,” Harry replied easily, flipping a page in his notebook.

“ _Why?_ ” the second guy asked, a bit hastily.  This one had black hair that was less curly than Harry’s, but a bit longer.  He actually had it pulled back into a tiny ponytail, which Harry envied.

“I’m not really feeling it,” Harry said, opening up his binder and unwrapping the dividers.  “It’s too early in the year to fall behind because of some social event.”

Harry ignored the lingering eyes of the boys in front of him as he continued to organize his binder.

“What is your name?” the guy with the black hair asked.

“Harry,” he replied, looking up at them and flashing a cordial grin.

The first guy hit the other guy’s chest, in an attempt to alert everybody that he realized something.  He pointed a sharp finger at Harry.  “Harry _Styles_?  As in, son of Thomas Styles?”

Harry nodded his head slowly, mentally begging for the conversation to end soon.

“I heard you’d be going here!” he exclaimed.  “Nice to meet you, kid!” he held out a hand for Harry, and Harry hesitantly shook it.

“I’m Liam,” he said with a smile, before turning and clapping his friend on the shoulder.  “And this is Marcus.”

“We’re part of a band named The Red Rogue, and we’re performing there on Saturday,” Marcus said excitedly.  “You’ve gotta come.  Your dad owns that place!”

“Indeed he does,” Harry replied, nodding his head.

“C’mon,” Liam said annoyingly.

“C’mon,” Marcus followed.

“ _C’mon_ ,” Liam repeated.

“Okay!” Harry said urgently, making sure nothing else would escape their mouths.  He kept a smile plastered on his face.  “I will be there.  Don’t look out for me, though—just know I will be there.”

“That’s my man,” Liam said, reaching out to mess up Harry’s hair, just as the professor started speaking.  Harry thanked the heavens that the boys finally turned around and found some place else to actually sit—that was far away from Harry.

 

~*~

 

He was in the student lobby, reclined on one of the sofas and checking emails on his phone, when he overheard a girl and her giggly friends completely losing it.

“I met him over the summer!” she squealed, showing a picture to all four of her friends.

“So how does it feel?” one of the girls asked.  “To meet your soulmate for the first time?”

“I can’t really describe it,” she started, and Harry rolled his eyes.  “It’s like, I just felt so at ease.  It’s so magical, you guys.  When I found out he had the same tattoo as me, I wasn’t even surprised!”

“I wish I could meet _mine_ ,” one of the girls whined.

“What if I never meet mine?” another girl said, worry evident in her tone.

 _Then you’ll regret spending your whole life looking for something that was never there_ , Harry thought, but he kept it to himself.  The more he heard about soulmates, the more he believed it was a total myth.

When Saturday had finally come, Harry found himself sitting on the bench on his balcony, looking down at his lap.  He’d finished his first week of university, and it wasn’t even half bad.  Just a few months left, and he would get a nice, long break.

Cecile was lying down, her head in his lap, as she rested her eyes.  He enjoyed the peaceful view of Cecile beneath him, and the breeze surrounding them as the sun slowly went down.  There was a lavender scent filling the air, coming from the automatic spray Harry had set up in his bedroom.

Cecile’s phone rang, but she didn’t even stir.  Harry knew she wasn’t sleeping, because he was familiar with what her body did when she was asleep.  She definitely wouldn’t have been able to stay that still if she was actually asleep, because when they spent nights together, she usually shifted and tossed all night.

Cecile slowly opened her eyes and let out a sigh before checking her phone.

“Tricia wants me to come to that thing today at your dad’s place,” she said softly, eyes on her phone screen.

“If you want to, you should go,” Harry replied.

Cecile sat up on the bench, placing one hand on his thigh as she looked at him.  “ _Come_ ,” she begged, long and drawn out.

“ _No_ ,” Harry replied, imitating the whiny voice she had used on him.

She sucked her teeth.  “Why are you so aggressively antisocial?”

“Saying I’m aggressively antisocial is pushing it,” Harry laughed, lightly shoving her.

“No, it’s the truth,” Cecile said.  “You need to have some fun.  Let loose a little,” she said as she shook her shoulders obnoxiously.  Harry laughed as he stared at her.

“So you won’t be mad if I go?” she asked, wrapping a strand of Harry’s curls around her finger.

“Of course I won’t,” Harry replied, softly grabbing her hand that was in his hair and lacing their fingers together.  She pressed her forehead against his.

“Okay,” she whispered, right before closing the space between them with a kiss.  They kissed for a few seconds, closed mouthed and slow, and then she pulled back, letting Harry nuzzle his nose against her cheek.

She got up and waved goodbye to Harry before leaving.

Harry sat there, relishing in how quiet everything was.  The traffic wasn’t too loud down below, and the people living in different apartments around him weren’t making too much of a ruckus.  He lived for moments like these; where everything was tranquil, and he was convinced he didn’t have a single worry in the world.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before he was interrupted from his peaceful evening.  Zayn’s number popped up on his screen as it vibrated loudly.

“Hi,” Harry said upon answering the phone.

“ _Come_ ,” was all Zayn said, in the same pleading tone Cecile had used.  Harry laughed, running his hand through his hair.

“I already told you I wasn’t coming,” Harry replied, looking at how it was officially nighttime outside.

“But I don’t wanna go alone,” Zayn said.

“There’s gonna be lots of people there.  I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

He held the phone against his ear as he heard nothing but silence from Zayn’s end of the line.  He then heard a huff of breath, and he couldn’t be so strong anymore.  He didn’t want to ruin Zayn’s weekend.

“Maybe I’ll come later,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Thanks!” Zayn replied excitedly, before the line went flat.  Harry was certain Zayn became a drama queen just for the sake of coercing Harry into doing things.

Harry sat for a few more minutes before getting up and changing into a white sheer shirt and black skinny jeans.  He picked out his round Ray-Ban sunglasses from his collection and headed out the door before he could make any second thoughts.

As his car pulled up to the event, he took a look at what seemed like hundreds of people dancing, drinking, and having fun in general.  There were many different tubs full of soft drinks, and food being grilled for the eager students.  It didn’t look too bad, but Harry still felt like it wasn’t for him.

He didn’t even get to walk two steps from his car before Zayn found him, immediately grabbing his wrist.  He was wearing a black blazer, which Harry felt was a bit extra for such a casual event like this one.  There was no doubt he had intentions of impressing somebody.

“You came,” Zayn said, smiling at Harry.

“I did,” Harry said matter-of-factly, as he got pulled along by Zayn.

As they approached closer to the core of where all the students were, Harry realized that a band was indeed playing on the stage.  The song sounded familiar, which confused Harry, because he’d literally never heard of the band before.  That was when he remembered that they were a cover band.

People were jumping around in front of the stage, others bobbing their heads, really getting into the performance and having a blast.  The band onstage was just as into it as everyone on the grass, and for a moment, Harry could see the appeal.  He was getting shoved by the people in the crowd as Zayn continued to pull him along, and he had no idea of where Zayn was trying to go.

He saw Liam and Marcus on stage—Liam being the lead singer, and Marcus being the drummer.  There was a blonde lad playing the bass guitar, along with another guitarist on the other side of the stage.  Liam actually had a very nice voice, and Harry kind of felt bad for underestimating them every time they were brought up.

He didn’t even realize Zayn was talking because of how loud it was.

“Huh?” Harry asked, leaning toward Zayn, who had finally stopped walking.

“Isn’t the blonde one hot?” he asked, beaming up at the stage, and Harry smirked, because he had been right.  He was certain this was the only reason they were here, and why Zayn was dressed like that.

“I can’t even properly see their faces from here,” Harry replied, struggling to speak over all the commotion.  In that moment, they began performing a different song, which Harry quickly identified as “Settle Down” by The 1975.

“Wanna get closer?” Zayn asked, already moving to reach for Harry’s wrist.

“I’m actually kinda hungry.  You can go to the front though.  I’ll join you over there later,” Harry assured him, patting Zayn on the back as the boy made his way forward.

The smell of hotdogs on a grill was seriously calling Harry’s name, and he’d only eaten breakfast, so he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.  He remembered that Cecile was there as he made his way to the hotdog stand, but he hadn’t seen her anywhere.  There were too many people to even make out one person.

The man handling the hotdogs and hamburgers immediately recognized Harry as he approached the stand, although Harry didn’t really recognize him.  He was used to instances like these anyway, because his parents knew so many people and were keen on making sure they knew who Harry was.

“Harry?  Thomas’ boy?” he asked, preparing a hotdog on a bun for Harry.  Harry wanted to tell him that he could do it himself, but he decided against it.

“Yep,” Harry said, taking the paper wrapper the hotdog was in from his hands.  “How’ve you been?” he asked, as though he actually knew who this man was standing in front of him.  He stepped aside to let other students prepare their hamburgers and grab whatever buns they needed.

“Good, good.  I’d no idea you were in college already,” the man said.  “Wow, time sure flies.”

“It sure does,” Harry said as he squirted a load of mustard onto his hotdog.  He took a huge bite out of it, and he wasn’t even ashamed, because he was just that hungry.

“Tell your dad I said hi,” the man said with a nod of his head.

“Will do,” Harry mumbled through a full mouth, before making his way elsewhere.

He scanned the crowd of people, looking to see if he could find Cecile.  He knew it would be easier if he took off his sunglasses, because it was nighttime, but he didn’t want to.  Having dark black sunglasses on kept him safe, and prevented people from trying to engage in conversation with him.  With sunglasses on, people couldn’t tell how he really felt by looking into his eyes, and that was a beautiful thing.  It made him appear to be full of mystery.

He finished up his hotdog and threw the wrapper in the trash, before dusting himself off.  He gave up on trying to find Cecile, and made his way back toward the front of the stage.

He had no idea where Zayn was, but he made his way to the front nonetheless.  He found a spot on the very corner of the front of the stage, where he could be very discreet about actually enjoying the band.  Up close, he got an even better look at each of their individual faces, and he thought about the blonde one Zayn had been talking about earlier.  He immediately smirked once he noticed the blonde one already had his eyes trained on someone in the crowd—that someone being Zayn.  Zayn was on the extreme other side of the stage, bobbing his head at the song they were playing and looking up at the blonde boy in wonder.  Harry felt happy for him, because he clearly came for this exact reason.  The blonde guy smiled down at him as he strummed, leaping around on his feet with every beat.

As Harry stood there and swayed slightly left and right to the music, he started feeling overall lighter.  Either this band was amazing, or someone was casting a spell on him, because he felt electric as the sounds of the melodies flowed throughout his body.  He pushed his sunglasses into his hair, wanting to get a clearer look at the spectacle.  He didn’t understand why his breath was getting taken away just by standing there, because the band was good, but certainly not _breathtaking_.

On Harry’s side of the stage was the second guitarist.  He was extremely bouncy and energetic, even though he was the smallest one on stage.  His brown hair was in sort of a short and messy fringe, he was wearing a black leather jacket, fingerless leather gloves, and he seemed to really be getting into the performance.  It was as though he forgot anybody else was there, and all he was focused on was jumping to the rhythm of the song and putting all his energy into strumming every single chord.  Harry wondered where he even stored all that energy, seeing as he was so short and compact—probably 5’10 at most.  He looked so happy and free up there, and Harry wanted to give him a pat on the back to congratulate him on being so enthusiastic.

Harry turned and observed his surroundings, feeling significantly warmer than he had when he initially came to this shindig.  He felt that he’d made a good decision to come.  Maybe he’d find Cecile later and they could dance.

Everyone was having so much fun, shouting the lyrics to the songs they all knew and loved.  They were enjoying the evening and getting ready to experience their first year in this completely foreign place.  He looked at the different couples holding hands and screaming in each other’s ears in order to be heard over the music, the people sat on top shoulders in order to see the band, and the raised hands in the air, clapping along with joy.  He was grateful that everyone could be brought together like this.  It was grand.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Harry had found his perfect quiet place.  In the library, there were different rooms set up to allow various groups to study in private, but there was one room that Harry was certain absolutely no one knew about.  The entrance door to the extra study room was sort of hidden by a giant bookcase, so Harry took the liberty of twisting the door open to see if it was even unlocked.  He was very satisfied to find a completely empty room, free of loud people who didn’t understand that a library was a place for silence.  He often studied in there and actually got stuff done in between classes, when he didn’t feel like driving all the way back to his apartment.  He was grateful nobody else knew about it, because now he could have it all to himself.

He spent a considerable amount of time in there every day, reviewing what his lectures had been about in class and studying diligently.  One day when Cecile visited, he even brought her in there with him after they’d gone for lunch in the afternoon.

“God, I wish I had some place like this to do my assignments,” she said with a sigh as she followed Harry into the study room.  The lights were dim, and the room was relatively warm.

“You don’t have a library at your uni?” Harry asked, setting his bag in one of the chairs surrounding the long table.

“Well, not a quiet one.  The girls always wanna call it a _study group_ ,” she started with air quotes, “where they don’t even study—all they do is gossip and occasionally flip a text book page.”

Harry rested his back against the table, reaching out to pull in Cecile by her hand.  “You can always come in here if you want.”

“I can’t come in here every day,” she replied with a pout, lacing both of their hands together.

“Unfortunately,” Harry said, lifting one of her hands and pressing a kiss to it.  “Sometimes I wake up and actually get thrown off because you’re not in my bed.”

Cecile let out a light gasp.  “Me too.  I hate sleeping alone, Harry,” she said, holding her head low.

Harry let go of one of her hands to wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her in.  “You’re telling me.”  He didn’t _actually_ hate sleeping alone; it was just weird and different, because he’d been sleeping with Cecile for several days straight.  He was sure he would eventually get used to not sleeping with her every day.

“I can’t believe you didn’t come on Saturday,” Cecile said, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder.  Harry furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, not really knowing what Cecile was talking about, and then it came to him.  He’d forgotten that he never told Cecile that he eventually came to the event.

“It was so much fun,” she mumbled into his shoulder.  “And The Red Rogue—they were actually really good.”

“If they ever do it again, I promise I’ll come,” Harry said, running his fingers down her back.

“I saw Zayn,” she said, before laughing softly.  “He was drooling at the guitarist the whole time though.  Didn’t even see me.”

“Typical Zayn,” Harry replied, letting out a sigh.

Cecile pulled back and looked at the watch on her wrist, running a stressful hand through her hair.  “I have a lecture in like thirty minutes, holy shit.”

“Well, you’re already late for it.  Might as well stay,” Harry said smugly, pulling her in tight and not allowing her to escape.  She giggled and tried to act like she didn’t want to stay in his arms.

“Okay, Harry,” she laughed.  “I’d rather get there during the last fifteen minutes than be completely absent.”

“I would skip hundreds of classes for you, and you can’t even skip one for me?” Harry asked, letting her go.

“You would _never_ skip a class for me, Harry,” Cecile said, crossing her arms. “You’re way too caught up in staying on top of things and maintaining a perfect record.”

Harry pouted at her, placing a hand on the back of her neck and bringing her head forward to press against his.  Harry realized everything would be way easier if she just went to the same school as him, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“See you babe,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

 

~*~

 

Harry was stood in front of his open refrigerator, trying to figure out a satisfying way to rearrange all the juices.  He had already arranged them in colored order, but now the visual just irritated him, so he had to take them all out and rearrange them.  He was stroking his chin, thinking of a way to organize them in his fridge without getting an eyesore, when his front door opened.  He sighed at himself for always forgetting to lock it.

“What’s up?” Zayn asked as he made his way across the living room and crashed on Harry’s couch.

“Nothing, just fearing for my life because of strangers popping into my apartment,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You can barely even call this an apartment,” Zayn said, reaching over to the bag of white popcorn Harry had left by the couch.  “This is more like a penthouse.”

“Penthouses don’t have front doors.  They only have elevators,” Harry replied, picking up the juice bottles and putting them back in the fridge.

“Of course _you_ would know that,” Zayn said with a laugh, stuffing his mouth with popcorn.  Harry watched him from the kitchen as he looked up at the T.V. that was hung on the wall.

“This is an apartment complex, Zayn,” Harry said, stepping down from the kitchen platform onto living room floor.  “I wouldn’t get a penthouse to live in for my first year of college.  That’s too much.”

“Yeah, because this giant fucking widescreen high up on the wall isn’t too much,” Zayn replied, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

Harry came up behind him and snatched the popcorn bag out of Zayn’s hands before crashing on the couch opposite him.  “Since you wanna criticize my choices so bad, you don’t get to have my food.”

Zayn laughed, reaching over to snatch the bag right back out of Harry’s hands.  “You’re hilarious.  Don’t you have some studying to do?”

“Actually, right now I can’t think of anything I need to review,” Harry said, before mentally searching for something he might actually need to look over again.  “Nope, nothing.  You?”

“Tons.  I don’t even know what my last Chemistry lecture was about,” Zayn said, shaking his head.  “How do you _do_ it?”

“It’s not that hard, Zayn.  I have a lot of free time,” Harry replied.

“And you use that free time to study?”  Zayn asked, his expression fixed in disbelief.

“Yeah.  Why not?” Harry asked, his tone indicating he had taken offence.  “I have to keep my grades up.  You know I got an academic scholarship to come here.”

Zayn scrunched up his nose, swallowing some popcorn before continuing to speak.  “Why’d you even need a scholarship anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re rich.  There are so many kids out there who would die to get a full scholarship like you did,” Zayn said.

“Zayn, it’s not like I _chose_ to get a scholarship,” Harry replied, his eyebrows furrowed.

Zayn made a knowing face at him, as though Harry was supposed to understand what he was getting at.  Harry was actually an excellent student in high school, which was what got him a full scholarship, so why would he feel bad about that?

“Your dad…” Zayn started, right before his phone buzzed in his pocket.  His eyes immediately lit up once he looked at the screen, and Harry watched him with frustration.

“Who are you so fucking giddy about?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

Zayn made a face at him before answering his question.  “It’s Niall.”

“I don’t know who that is, but okay,” Harry replied, reclining on the sofa as he stared up at the television.

“It’s the hot blonde dude from the band on Saturday!” Zayn said excitedly.  “I got his number after the show, when he was walking around, greeting people and being all cute.”

“Wow, look at you,” Harry said teasingly.

“Well, it took me like thirty minutes to muster up the courage to approach him,” Zayn explained, looking down at his lap.  “I had no idea where you’d gone by then.”

“And you probably didn’t care,” Harry said with a relaxed sigh.

“Harry, what if I actually end up having a rock star boyfriend?” Zayn asked, eyes glued to his phone.

“He’s in a cover band,” Harry replied.  “I doubt that will get them into Madison Square Garden.”

Zayn sat up where he was, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry.  “Don’t even act like you think they’re lame.  I _saw_ you near the stage, and you were really getting into it.”

Harry’s cheeks went red.  “I thought you said you didn’t know where I was!”

“I didn’t know where you were _after_ the show ended,” Zayn started.  “But I caught a glimpse of you on the other side of the stage, rocking out.”

“I wasn’t _rocking out_.  That’s an overstatement,” Harry said with a huff.

“I’m not sure overstatement is a word,” Zayn replied, rolling his eyes as he brought his phone back up to his face.  His face lit up again as he stared at the screen.  “Niall is fucking hilarious.  I swear he was made for me.”

“Oh, maybe he’s your _soulmate_ ,” Harry said sarcastically, followed by laughter.

“Shut up.”

 

~*~

 

It was dark out, but not quite nighttime, so Harry could still sort of see what he was reading.

“I don’t understand this crap.  Too many words, too many names for things,” Cecile whined, scrunching her hand in her hair.  She had the Biology textbook open between her and Harry as they sat at one of the wooden tables in the park.  There were a quite a few other people hanging around, exercising and having picnics and such.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the page, because he honestly didn’t quite understand it either.  He placed one of his hands over Cecile’s on top of the table and stroked it with his thumb.

“We can do this,” he encouraged, scanning the textbook page with his eyes. By reading the page, he understood that when a ribosome reached a stop codon in the mRNA, no corresponding tRNA would enter the A site, and that if he were to experimentally stop a reaction at this point, an assembled ribosome with a polypeptide attached to the P site of the tRNA could be identified, but how the _hell_ was he supposed to memorize all of that for the test?  He groaned as he narrowed his eyes in concentration, hoping that it would help him make sense of the jumbled up words on the page.

“At my last lecture, my professor was going way too fast,” Harry claimed, rubbing at his eye .  “I was just staring at him like he was crazy.”

“Same,” Cecile replied, looking at him hopelessly.  She shifted her eyes to the text book between them again, pointing at a paragraph on the page.  “Maybe if we—“

Her words were cut off when a football came flying over to where they were seated, hitting Harry directly on the side of his head.  It was an extremely hard blow that sent Harry’s sunglasses flying.  He would’ve fallen off the seat entirely if Cecile hadn’t caught him at the last second.  She stared at him in her arms, open mouthed, as he struggled to recollect himself.

“Oh God,” he heard a familiar voice say.  He rubbed his head and turned in the direction of the voice, letting out a groan.  He found Marcus standing there, looking at him with apologetic eyes.  He was wearing a white t-shirt and track pants.

“Sorry about that,” he said, picking up Harry’s sunglasses off of the grass and setting it on the table.  In a matter of seconds, two other guys followed behind him—one that he recognized as _Niall_ , along with another guy behind him, wrapping his arms around the blonde boy from behind.

“Sorry lad,” Niall said, looking at Harry seriously.  “Although Louis should be apologizing.  He’s the one who kicked it.”  He gestured at the boy behind him.

“Oops,” the guy said, before letting out a giggle and burying it in Niall’s back.  The longer Harry stared at him as he got out of his freshly-struck daze, the quicker he realized Louis was that one energetic guitarist he’d paid attention to on stage that day.

“Hi,” Harry said, looking around Niall at the boy who kept laughing.  Harry was really starting to get irritated at how this boy thought it was so funny that he'd almost gotten knocked out.

“Is there something funny about hitting me in the head with a football?  You sure have a lot of foot power for being so fucking tiny,” Harry hissed, causing the boy to immediately stop laughing, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

Niall laughed nervously, shifting the conversation before things would get too heated.  “Hey, we’ve been meaning to tell you about how grateful we were to perform at Roseweather Field on Saturday.  We wanna thank you and your dad.”

“By giving me a concussion?” Harry asked, still rubbing at his head.  Cecile let out very tiny giggle, causing Harry to glare at her.

Louis started snickering again, and Harry took notice of how he kind of looked like a fluffy hedgehog, burrowed behind Niall like that.  Harry wondered if he and Niall were dating.  That would be some devastating news to deliver to Zayn.

Marcus and Niall were saying things to him about how appreciative they were about getting to perform in front of so many people, but Harry couldn’t hear them because of the loud pounding in his head.  Another thing he definitely could hear though, were the taunting laughs coming from the boy behind Niall.

“I just wanna know what is so damn _funny_ ,” Harry said, setting his jaw tight.

“You got hit square in the head,” Louis replied bluntly.  “And now your face is red, and it’s actually quite hilarious.”

“Excuse him,” Niall said quickly, turning around and messing Louis’ hair.  “I didn’t even introduce myself.  I’m Niall, that’s Marcus, and…you’ve already met Louis.”  Niall turned around to gesture at him, but he was already gone, kicking the ball that he had almost murdered Harry with, down the field with much concentration.

“He’s already met me,” Marcus said, a grin on his face.

Harry sat there boredly, highly irritated from his migraine and having to endure a conversation with these obnoxious boys.  Harry just let out a long breath, keeping his cool and trying to ignore the headache that was starting to grow stronger and stronger.

“You guys are really good,” Cecile said, looking up at Niall and Marcus.  “How long have you guys been a band?”

Harry rubbed at his head, dreading the fact that the conversation was extended.  They told her about how they’d gotten together in senior year of high school, and then went into detail about how much fun it was to be on stage.

When they finally walked away and continued playing their game of footie, Harry turned to Cecile and let out a long, deep breath.  His head was still pounding.

“It was an accident,” Cecile reminded him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Never studying out here again,” Harry muttered as Cecile ran her fingers through his hair.

“As you wish,” she said.

 

~*~

 

“You’re just gonna leave without me?” Harry heard Zayn call from behind.

Harry stopped in his tracks before entering back into the class he’d just gotten out of.  He rested his back against the doorframe and crossed his arms as different students exited the lecture hall.

“You always take so fucking long to put everything back in your bag,” Harry whined as Zayn made his way over to him.

“That’s because I’m not a nerd like you.  I don’t watch the clock and pack up on time,” Zayn said, making his way past Harry and out the door.

“That’s not a nerd thing.  That’s common sense,” Harry said pointedly as he caught up to Zayn.

“I can just see the future now,” Zayn started, looking up in concentration.  “You growing up to be a neurosurgeon, and me coming over to use your indoor pool everyday.”

Harry laughed.  “I’m not gonna be a neurosurgeon.  That sounds so scary.”

“They make a lot of money,” Zayn said.

“I don’t care if they make a lot of  money,” Harry replied, placing his hands in his pockets.  “I’m not gonna have a career I don’t want.”

“So, what job _do_ you want?” Zayn asked as they walked, exiting the building and stepping under the sun outside.

Harry frowned.  He hated being asked this question, and he had always hated it ever since third grade.  He’d always found it weird that teachers would ask him what he wanted to do when he grew up, when he was only nine and couldn’t even spell ‘spaghetti’.  Now, he still didn’t have any more of a clue than he had when he was nine, and he wished he would stop getting drilled about it.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled.

“What do you mean _you don’t kno_ w?” Zayn asked.  “You’re literally working towards your future right now.  There’s no more time to be indecisive, Harry.”

“I’m eighteen.  I have like fifty more years to live if I stay safe,” Harry said.  “I think I have time.”  He said those words to convince himself, because with how young he was, it seemed like he _did_ have time.  Deep down he knew he probably didn’t, and he would find himself in deep shit soon.

“What do you like to do?” Zayn asked.

Harry let out a thoughtful sigh as he tried to answer Zayn’s question.  He bit his bottom lip in concentration as he walked.  “Sleep.  And eat.”

“I don’t think you can make a career off of that,” Zayn said, shoving him lightly.  “What do you like to do that’s _profitable_?”

“I’m unsure,” Harry replied, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You can’t get through life being _unsure_ ,” Zayn said.

“I’ve been doing it all my life, so I’ll continue to do it forever,” Harry said with a huff.  “It’s just…I’m not like you.  I haven’t found what I’m good at yet, like you’ve done with art.  I’m pretty sure I’m not good at anything that’s cool.”

Zayn placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “That can’t be true.  You’ve just gotta find your passion.  There are so many clubs and organizations here, that it’s impossible not to find your niche.”

Harry nodded, even though he knew that was impossible.  He could be thirty years old and he still wouldn’t know what he wanted to do with his life.  He was sure he would probably end up doing something he didn’t want to do.

Regardless of his doubts about discovering what his passion could be, his still took time out of his day to look at the bulletin full of different fliers containing information about various clubs.  Harry stood in front of it one day, eyes scanning the different colored papers pinned to the board.  He looked at a couple of them; Anime Club, Cardio Club, Pre-Law Society, Tennis Club.  He often tripped over his own feet when he wasn’t fully concentrating, so there was no way he would be able to coordinate a tennis ball with a racquet in his hand.  He let out an exhausted breath before just grabbing the pen that was hanging off the board.  He looked at the description on the flier for the Environmental Society, and it didn’t seem so bad.  Protecting earth and making sure people recycled and all that good stuff.  Harry loved earth, he really did, so he had no problem with being in a club dedicated to it.

He moved to sign it, right before another guy intercepted him and signed his name on the last slot.  Harry took a few steps back, completely thrown off by this random guy who apparently didn’t see that he was about to sign up.

Harry watched as he signed his name, which read as “Eli”.  Harry crossed his arms as he stood there.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eli said as he turned to look at Harry, a smug look on his face.  “Were you going to sign up?”

“I clearly was, yeah,” Harry replied, flashing him a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” he said with fake sincerity.

“It’s fine, I’ll just find something else to sign up for,” Harry said with a shrug, moving around Eli to find another remotely interesting club.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to do this one anyway,” Eli started, tucking the pen in his hand behind his ear.  “It requires actual _work_ , Daddy’s Boy,” he hissed before making his way past Harry, shoving his shoulder aggressively in the process.

Harry’s eyes widened, but he didn’t turn around to finish the fight or say something rude.  He simply put the pen back where it was hanging on the board and gave up on trying to find his area of expertise.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

“Have you ever been to Old Chicago?” Harry asked, his cell phone pressed against his ear.

“No,” Cecile answered.  “It sounds nice though.”

“I don’t know,” Harry started, letting out a sigh as he reclined in his chair.  “I’ve never been there either.”

“Harry, we don’t have to go someplace fancy,” Cecile replied, and Harry heard her shifting around in her bed.

“I _want_ to take you to someplace fancy,” Harry said.  “You deserve all things fancy.”

“Maybe that’s what I _deserve_ , but you know what I _want_?” Cecile asked.

“What?”

“Pizza and a cuddle,” she whined, letting out a yawn.

“Next time you come over, sure,” Harry said, smiling.

He was in his secret study room in the library, and he’d already finished his assignments, so he decided to call Cecile and arrange a dinner date with her.  They’d never been on a proper date before, complete with dressing up nice and picking her up, and he felt like she really deserved that.

They talked some more about different restaurants they could go to, and then Harry decided to get off the phone so she could take her nap.  He grinned into the dim light of the room once he hung up, thinking about how much Cecile was similar to him.  He couldn’t blame her for taking a nap at twelve in the afternoon.

The quiet environment was abruptly stripped from him when the door to the study room busted open, and Harry couldn’t even be surprised when he saw who entered.  Who _else_ could be this noisy and annoying in the morning, especially in an area where people went to enjoy peace and quiet?

They flooded the room, screaming and yelling vulgarities at each other, not even having noticed Harry was in the room, seated at the head of the table.  Harry wondered if there could ever be a time where these boys would act like civilized human beings.  He pushed his sunglasses into his hair and clasped his hands together over the table.

It wasn’t just two or three of them, but all _four_.  Liam had Louis hauled up on his shoulder as he squirmed and screamed for Liam to put him down, and Niall was throwing books at Marcus, which brought Marcus to lunge at him and initiate a lighthearted wrestling match.

Harry sat there patiently, hoping that maybe if he sat completely still, they wouldn’t notice him and try to engage in conversation like they often did.  He was proved wrong after Liam put Louis down on the table, causing Louis to kick at him and giggle.  Harry was starting to absolutely loathe that boy and his giggles.  Why the fuck was he always giggling?

He rolled around on top of the table, shoving Liam away, before Liam turned his head to the side and finally noticed Harry.

“Holy shit, you guys.  We’re being too loud!” Liam yelled, not helping the case at all.  His features turned apologetic as he looked at Harry.  “Our good friend Harry is trying to study.”

Louis craned his neck to look at Harry from where he was laid out on the table.

“Sorry, dude,” Niall said from across the room, holding Marcus in a chokehold.  “…again.”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry replied nicely.

“We’ll just leave,” Liam said, prompting all the other boys to begin to quietly make their way out.  Harry sat there, still grinning and waiting for their departure.

All the boys left, except for Louis, who had apparently dropped his book bag by the entrance door.  He went over to pick it up, before coming back to the table, taking a seat at the second head of the table, opposite of Harry.  He acted as though Harry wasn’t there as he pulled his different books out of his bag and opened them.

Harry stared at him, but Louis didn’t even spare him a glance as he chewed on the end of his pencil.  Harry closed his eyes slowly, struggling to contain his frustration.  This was supposed to be his _own_ secret room, and somehow, they found it, and now he couldn’t even study by himself.  He was thankful that Louis wasn’t being a pest, however; he was actually quiet—

The loud crackling noise of a bag of pita chips being ripped open caused Harry to open his eyes.  Louis stuffed them in his mouth, the crunching sound echoing throughout the entire room.

“Hey,” Harry started, in as nice a voice as he could muster.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was in here alone and kind of planned to keep it that way.”

“This room doesn’t have your name on it,” Louis said, not even looking up at Harry.  Harry narrowed his eyes at him—well, at the crown of his head, and huffed out a breath.  He didn’t understand why Louis always wanted to challenge him.  They’d only spoken once for goodness’ sake, yet it seemed like Louis had been waiting his whole life to torment Harry.  Harry didn’t want to argue; he was a strong advocate for world peace, in fact, but if this boy wanted Louis vs. Harry Round One, that was exactly what he was going to get.

“There are other study rooms.  I’m sure you can find one,” Harry said slowly, talking to him as though he were a child.  “But you can’t stay in here.”

Now Louis looked up at him, slowing down his loud crunching.  Harry raised his eyebrows for a quick second, staring right back at Louis.  “I can help you find one if you want,” he added with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You can take that offer and shove it up your ass,” Louis said matter-of-factly.  “All the other ones are full, and I’m not about to let a curly haired dickhead drive me out of this one.”

Harry sat there with his lips parted, while Louis grew a smug grin on his face.  “I was here _first_.”

“Learn to fucking share, you spoiled brat,” Louis snapped, before going back to jotting down something in his notebook.  Harry took in a short breath, because that one almost stung— _almost_.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” Harry started, his face fixed in frustration.  “I was actually being really nice about--”

“You know, the way you look at people,” Louis interrupted, now looking up at Harry and setting his elbow on the table.  “It irks the shit out of me.  It’s so annoying, because it’s obvious you’re mentally judging everybody.  And why do you always wear those fucking sunglasses?  This isn’t Beverly Hills.”

Harry sat there with his mouth open, not knowing what to say or how to react to the fact that Louis had so many angry thoughts about him.  He was feeling attacked for no reason, and he did nothing to deserve this.

He honestly wasn’t expecting Louis to be so snappy and mean.  When he first saw him onstage, he’d imagined him to be bubbly and full of happiness, but it seemed to be the exact opposite.  Harry should’ve known he couldn’t judge people off of how they appeared.

Louis went back to working on his assignments, and Harry ran his fingers over the sunglasses that were resting in his hair.  He decided it wasn’t worth it.  He slowly put his stuff back into his bag as the sounds of Louis’ crunching continued.

As he got up and made his way for the door, he couldn’t miss the brief hum of satisfaction that escaped Louis’ lips.  He yanked the door open and left without looking back.

 

~*~

 

A deep breath escaped his lips as he looked ahead at the trees and road signs speeding past him.  He accelerated down the street easily, appreciating how smoothly his Mazda MX-5 drove.  It was definitely a step up from his old Camaro, which had a tendency to get a bit bumpy.  He made a mental note to himself to remember to thank his dad for the thousandth time.  This brought his mind to remember the exact reason for why he was driving; he was visiting his dad.

He planned for it to be a surprise, because his dad had been discouraged that Harry hadn’t even called him on his first day.  He saw his dad during the summer, so it wasn’t like there was going to be a grand reunion.  Harry was just excited to get to see the man, catch up, and have some genuine father-son time.

When he left with his mum when he was a teenager, he had a constant fear that his dad would gradually forget about him.  He stored this worry in his mind only, however.  He never voiced his feelings about it to anyone, because he didn’t want to appear weak and dependent.  He also felt that it was an absurd worry anyway; there was no way on earth his dad could ever forget about him.  They had quite a relationship that Harry cherished more than anything, and he couldn’t imagine his dad slowly losing interest.

When he moved to another state with his mum and Gemma when he was fourteen, it was very abrupt.  The fact that his parents were always getting into disagreements was hard to ignore, but he still wasn’t expecting anyone to actually end up moving out.  Harry didn’t have much to miss anyway; the only thing he had in that town was his dad and Zayn, although he and Zayn were sort of pushed together because their parents were friends.   He kept consistent communication with his dad throughout all the years, and it kept them just as close as they’d always been.

Harry didn’t want his dad to think he liked his mum better.  To this day, he could never come up with a real answer for why he chose to move in with his mum—it just seemed like the natural thing to do.  He knew in his heart that he loved both his mum and dad the same, but he just hoped that his dad knew that also.

He also knew he couldn’t leave Gemma.  He envisioned being an only child to be horribly lonesome (aside from getting extra space and more gifts).  He was closer to Gemma than Zayn, so that might’ve been the deal breaker.

Harry took a deep breath as he drove slowly toward the drive way that led to his dad’s house.  It stood alone, with a grand pathway towards the front that Harry always loved walking along.

Once Harry got out of his car, he walked slowly down the marble path, looking down on how the little lights bordered it.  He definitely wanted a place like this when he grew up.

He pressed the doorbell and listened to the muffled sound of the dinging from his side of the door.  He waited for a few moments, now realizing that he hadn’t even called to check if his dad was home.  Another hour-long drive back to his apartment was going to steer him toward insanity.

Just as he was contemplating turning right back around, the door opened, and his dad was there.

“Harry!” he said happily, and Harry didn’t get to reply before his dad was stepping outside and closing the door behind himself.  He was wearing a light brown jacket, as though he was already planning on heading out.

“Wasn’t expecting you,” he continued.  “How about lunch?”

“Sure,” Harry replied, his eyebrows furrowed, as he followed behind his dad, who was already making his way back down the path.  “Is your cooking that bad?”

His dad chuckled as Harry caught up to him.  “Just want to spend some time out for once.  It’s torture, staying in that house all day.”

“Even worse because it’s so big,” Harry laughed.  “Must be horrifying to live alone in there.”

His dad hummed as he pressed the button on his keys to unlock his car.  Harry slid in the passenger seat, immediately envious of how spotless his dad kept his car; it was as though he’d just bought it.

“Do you even drive this?” Harry asked, smoothing his hands across the dashboard as his dad started up the car.

“Yes, but I treat it with care,” his dad replied.  “Unlike you, who could care less about a detail wash.”

Harry scrunched up his nose as he slumped in his seat.  “I don’t feel comfortable with strangers all over my car.”

His dad laughed, and they fell into easy conversation while they made their journey to the sub shop he and his dad always used to go to before he moved away.  They’d gone many times during the summer, and it was always a breath of fresh air.

“So,” Harry said, drumming his fingers on the table as he sat across from his dad.  “How’s business going?”

“The usual,” his dad replied.  “I still have a dozen clients to look at, and it’s killing me.”

Harry chuckled.  “Procrastination’s in our blood.”

His dad went into a rant about how insulted he was that different investors would offer him a price that was well below what was expected.  Harry listened to him like always, pretending to fully understand his business talk.  He didn’t know much about it; just that there were bids and investors and clients and large amounts of money involved.

Harry took his side when he complained about the other people he worked with, and they fell into perfect banter like they always did.  That was what Harry loved about them; Harry listened to him, and he listened to Harry.  He never felt like he was being ignored or not given freedom to say what he wanted to say.  It was always easy around his dad.

“So what about that major?” his dad asked after a while of discussing different business habits.

Harry pressed his lips together, nodding his head slowly as he looked down at his sandwich.  He hadn’t really decided on one yet, and he felt like everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, urging him to go on and make a choice.

“You know I’m still undecided,” Harry said, and he waited for the inevitable sigh that came from his dad’s mouth.  “But I’m still taking the basic classes.  I can choose from so many different majors with the classes I’m taking.”

“There’s always Business Administration…” his dad said slowly, before taking a bite out of his sub.

Harry held back from rolling his eyes.  “I know.  That’s probably what I’ll end up settling on.”

“I mean, you don’t _have_ to,” his dad said.  “There’s still Psychology, Accounting, Chemical Engineering—“

“I know, dad,” Harry interrupted.  “I have a list.”

“I’m just trying to help,” his dad replied.  “I want you to be fully set on what you want for your future.”

Harry nodded vigorously as he took a sip from his sparkling water.  “Don’t worry.  I’ve got this.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, waiting for his nerves to calm, before opening them again.

He fully understood why his dad was concerned, and he knew that he, himself, should’ve been concerned too.  It was just that, he had absolutely no idea of what he wanted to do in life, and he didn’t want to end up doing something he hated for no reason.  He felt like he was too young to quickly decide how the rest of his life was going to play out.

Time was moving too fast.  One minute he was shaking in his boots, getting ready to show his face at a new high school, and the next minute he was filling out applications and taking college tours.  Although he was never going to voice this out loud, he wanted everything to slow down.  He wanted everything to slow down to a completely halt, so that he could have time to actually organize his thoughts and sort out things.  If he had more time, maybe he could discover what it was he wanted to do.

He took big bites out of his sub in order to avoid more conversation, but of course that didn’t stop his dad.  They continued to make small talk about school while Harry spewed halfhearted replies.

“Mum says I could be a model,” Harry said jokingly.

“I’ve never heard of anybody studying ‘modeling’ at university,” his dad replied with a smirk.  “But if that’s what you want—“

“I’m _kidding_ ,” Harry laughed.

“Your mum, by the way.  How is she?” his dad asked.

Harry shrugged.  “She’s fine.  I called her a few days ago and she nearly cried from how much she missed me.”

“Ah.”

The small, diamond shaped tattoo on his dad’s finger caught Harry’s attention as he ate.  He’d always been intrigued by it ever since he was young, but he never really questioned it.  His dad never talked about it either, so Harry assumed he didn’t want it to be discussed.  He knew his mum didn’t have a matching tattoo, because he’d seen her hand a million times, but there was no way he was about to pinpoint that as the reason they didn’t last.  They didn’t last, simply because they bumped heads way too much.

“Have you heard about the soulmate thing?” Harry asked nonchalantly, before taking another sip of his water.

His dad scoffed, an expression on his face displaying how ridiculous the concept was.  Harry grinned.  They were so much alike.

“It’s absurd,” his dad replied.

“I know,” Harry said.  “Zayn tried to tell me his aunt and her husband had the same tattoo, so that made them soulmates.”

His dad paused for a moment, looking up in thought.  “I’ve never really seen a tattoo on either of them, now that I think about it.  It’s probably in some hidden spot.”  He shook his head as an afterthought.  “No way they have the same one, though.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.  “I don’t feel like any splattering of ink can tell me who I can and can’t love.”

“You’re still with that Cecile girl, right?”

“Of course,” Harry replied.  He was taken aback a bit at the mere fact that his dad’s mind drifted to Cecile after hearing Harry say that he had the free will to love who he wanted to love.  He was dating Cecile, and he liked her very much, but he couldn’t yet identify any feelings of _love_ towards her.

“I always did like that girl,” his dad said.

“Me too.  She’s very nice,” Harry agreed, before taking another bite out of his sandwich.

“I’m glad that you’re not just messing around like I did when I was your age,” his dad started.  “Relationships are meant to be important.  I’ve learned that, in order to avoid wasting time, it’s good to only date women I see as a potential wife.”

Harry only slightly choked, and his dad didn’t even notice as he continued speaking.

“With Cecile…yeah, she seems pretty good for you, Harry,” his dad said as he looked up in thought.  “You two go quite well together.”

Harry ate some more of his sub, because his mouth couldn’t form any words.  His dad had somehow hit something that Harry had never thought of before—at least not with Cecile.  He started feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he chewed, because now that he thought about it, he couldn’t see himself marrying Cecile.  Is that what she saw in him?  A potential _husband_?  Were they supposed to have kids together?  Harry wouldn’t really mind having kids with her, because with her vibrant red hair and his curls, they’d be sure to make some beautiful babies, but he still couldn’t perfectly envision a future with her as his one and only.

He shrugged his thoughts off, telling himself that the future stuff didn’t matter.  He liked Cecile _now_ , so he didn’t have anything to worry about.

Except his mind wouldn’t stop racing.

He could _not_ spend the rest of his life with Cecile.  It just didn’t seem realistic.  He couldn’t even have sex with her for goodness’ sake, so how the hell was he supposed to marry her and have kids?

He didn’t even realize his dad was still speaking until he was asked a question.

“Harry?  You okay?” his dad asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Harry from across the table.

Harry nodded his head slowly, pursing his lips.  “I’m perfectly fine.  Just…thinking about my future, is all.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that we've got those first few chapters out of the way, stay tuned for an update on tuesday!  
> also, if you've actually read this far and didn't give up on this painfully slow fic, i want to let you know that im very grateful! continue being an awesome person!
> 
> feel free to leave comments on how you feel about this so far, anything is appreciated : )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> découverte.

 

 

So far, Harry had been experiencing an exhausting morning, because his television remote wouldn’t work, and he accidentally spilled hot tea all over himself whilst trying to rush and make himself a cup.

He had been rushing because he was late for his first class of the day, which brought him to discover the one (and probably only) downside to not having a roommate, or living in any of the dorms—he didn’t have anyone to wake him up.  He didn’t look at it as a _huge_ obstacle, however.  All he had to do was be a little bit more responsible and actually wake up when his alarm told him to do so.

Now, naturally, he was feeling anything but responsible and driven, so he came to the conclusion that maybe his morning class wasn’t as urgent as he made it out to be.

He crashed on the couch, making the mental decision to bail on class for the first time that school year.  He felt like a rebel, even though he knew nothing would happen.

It was when he grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and pressed the button to turn the T.V. on, that he let out a long, exhausted breath.  He now hated the fact that his television was too high up on the wall for him to go and physically press a button.

He let out a yawn as he pushed himself up from the couch, making his way over to his bedroom.  He grabbed his phone off of the nightstand and unlocked it, proceeding to dial Cecile’s number.  When she answered, it was clear she was in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Yeah Harry?” she said upon answering.

“What’re you doing?” Harry asked tiredly as he flopped down on his bed.

“I’m getting dressed.”

“You should come and have breakfast with me,” Harry replied, followed by a yawn.

He heard her giggle on her side of the line.  “I’m getting dressed because I have class.”

“You should skip today.  Like me,” Harry said, a proud smile growing on his face, even though Cecile couldn’t see him.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“I’m _me_.  I just don’t feel up for class today, seeing as my day’s already gone horrible before I’ve even left out the door.”

“How’s your day already bad, babe?”

Harry went on to tell her about the disaster that included a hot beverage spilling on his shirt, burning him so badly that he had to use all of his strength not to cry, and then he used his most dramatic tone of voice to explain how the malfunctioning of the T.V. remote had him in complete and utter despair.

“I wish I could come over there right now,” she said, and she sounded as though she was walking somewhere.  “But I’m already behind, so I don’t think it would be best for me to skip.”

“I understand,” Harry said sadly, biting his lip.

They said their hurried goodbyes, and as soon as she was off the phone, Harry couldn’t help but feel odd.  He stared at his phone screen for a few moments, scanning his eyes over the picture of Cecile he had under her contact name.

He called Zayn before he could think too much, and the boy answered within seconds.

“Uh huh?”

“What’s up?  Wanna come over and climb a ladder so I can watch T.V.?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Zayn asked.

“My remote—“

“Harry, I’m too comfortable right now.  If anyone’s going anywhere, it’s going to be you, coming to my place.”

“Ugh…I don’t feel like moving.  I don’t feel like getting in my car,” Harry whined.

“If I had a car like yours, I’d be living in it.”

“Just come over.  I’m bored and need something to do,” Harry pleaded.

“Why is it always _me_ coming over _there_?” Zayn asked.

“For one, my place has much more room.  An actual family could live here,” Harry said.

“Well, too bad.  The spaciousness of your _apartment_ won’t be winning me over today.  Either come over, or stay lonely.”

Harry huffed as he listened to Zayn chuckle on the phone.  He glared at his screen before hanging up and laying for a few more minutes.  Eventually, he managed to push himself up from his bed and slip on some shoes before heading out the door.

When he got to Zayn’s apartment, he found that the boy hadn’t been lying.  He was wrapped up in a thick blanket like a burrito, watching cartoons as he sipped on a ridiculously long, swirly straw that sat on the table next to him.

Harry didn’t always fancy coming to Zayn’s place, because it was like any regular apartment—stuffy and small, but he _did_ like the way Zayn was so comfortable with having so little space.  It reminded him of how they were different.

“You do look quite comfortable,” Harry said, crashing on the couch opposite Zayn, laying his head against the armrest.

“Do you not have a class?” Zayn asked, his voice muffled by the blanket.

“I do, but haven’t you heard?” Harry asked.  “I’m a rebel now.”

“Yeah, as if you didn’t go to bed at nine yesterday.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Zayn before shaking his head, because he _had_ gone to bed at nine.  Nine-thirty to be exact.

“Do you have anything to eat?”

“Just ordered some pizza,” Zayn replied.

“Perfect,” Harry said, getting up from the couch and crawling on the floor toward Zayn’s movie collection.  He only had about twenty movies, but Harry enjoyed watching them repeatedly.

“Why are you so desperate to hang out with me anyway?” Zayn asked.  “What happened to Cecile?”

“She’s fine,” Harry answered, pursing his lips as he studied the DVD case containing _The Parent Trap._   “Just…fine.”

He slipped the movie in and made his way back over to the couch, unwrapping Zayn out of his perfect nest.  Zayn didn’t get to react before Harry was pulling the blanket over both of them, crossing his legs over Zayn’s lap as he reclined against the back of the couch.

They watched the opening credits in comfortable silence—well, at least Zayn seemed comfortable.  Harry was a bit on edge.  He chewed on his nails as he tried to focus on the love song playing, which happened to be ingrained into his head from having watched the movie so many times.

“I feel… _weird_ about Cecile,” Harry finally said, looking straight ahead.

“Elaborate,” Zayn replied easily.

Harry licked his lips, unsure if he should really get into it.  He partially felt like he was just creating imaginary problems, as he often did.

“I visited my dad this past weekend, and we were talking about the future, and stuff,” Harry started.  “And then he mentioned Cecile, and for some reason, my mind immediately panicked.”

Zayn sat up a little, a puzzled look spreading across his face.

“I’m just…I look at our relationship in a different way now.”  He finally turned to look at Zayn.  “Is there really even a point in continuing if I don’t see a future with her?”

“Of course,” Zayn said, nudging Harry with his leg.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, now looking at his lap.  “I just don’t wanna waste my time.  She’s so nice.  I feel so bad.  Jesus, I _like_ her.  What am I even talking about?”

“You’re just freaking out.  It’s normal.”  Zayn sat up all the way, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder.  Harry looked up at him, hoping he was genuinely meaning all he said.

“You’re thinking that now, because you’re still tripped up about even the thought of marriage and all that, but when the time comes, you’ll know it was her all along.”

Harry nodded, thinking that if he agreed, then Zayn’s words would become true.

Who even said he _had_ to get married anyway?

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Harry said.

“Yep.  When you both mature, you’ll see it in each other.”

Harry had no idea why Zayn was so bent on making Harry see that they were meant to be.  Harry didn’t believe in “meant-to-be”’s anyway.  He just found someone he was attracted to, physically and personality wise, and then got on with them.  It was as simple as that.

“So, do you see it?” Harry asked, his eyes hopeful as he looked at Zayn.  “When you look at me and Cecile, can you see us as like, a future wife and husband with three kids?”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn replied, chuckling a bit.  “You were quite quick with assuming you would have three kids.”

“Perfect number of kids,” Harry said, looking up as he imagined three wild toddlers running around in a mansion.  “They won’t get too lonely because they’ll have siblings, and there aren’t so many of them, so I won’t forget their names.”

Zayn looked at him for a while, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Only about the kids,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.  “Not about Cecile.”

Zayn reached his hand out again to pat Harry’s shoulder, this time shaking him a bit.  “It’s all gonna be fine.  Sure, she’s not your soulmate—“

Harry let out a sigh.

“Hear me out,” Zayn said impatiently.  “She’s not looking for her soulmate either, so you’re good.”

Harry glared at Zayn for a moment before shaking his head.  “You’re delusional.”

“I may be a deluded freak, but at least I’ll find true love,” Zayn said, a grin resting on his face.  Harry stared back at him, trying his best to maintain a bored expression, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how bubbly Zayn was a person.

They laughed together, and Harry truly hoped for Zayn to find someone someday.  If telling himself that soulmates were real got him through the day, then so be it.

Harry’s eyes wandered down to Zayn’s elbow, where his tattoo was.  He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to contain how envious he was of how incredible Zayn’s tattoo looked, in comparison to his bland and rusty rose.

The ink on Zayn’s arm displayed a very detailed, yet faded skull, surrounded by blossoming flowers and roses—all contained within a centimeter radius.  No bigger than a dime, as opposed to Harry’s, which was about the size of a tiny fist.  It was very unique-looking, and if anyone in the universe had that exact same tattoo, Harry was jealous of them too.

Zayn, taking notice of where Harry’s attention was, looked down at his elbow as well, gazing at the tattoo.

“It’s sick,” Harry said with wonder.  “Why couldn’t I get one like that?”

“It’s not about it being _sick_ ,” Zayn replied, stroking a finger over the ink.  “It’s real life symbolism.”

Harry’s vicious eye roll was interrupted when there was a knock at the door.  He turned to Zayn.  “Must be the pizza.”

“Or Niall,” Zayn added as he shoved the blanket off of himself and got up.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked as Zayn made his way to the front door.

“I invited him,” Zayn quickly mumbled before twisting the door open.  Standing behind it was a very smiley Niall, with a guitar over his shoulder and two boxes of pizza stacked in his hands.

“I came here just as the pizza guy came to your door!” Niall said happily as Zayn let him in.  “I paid for it and sent him on his way.”

Harry continued sitting on the couch, a blank expression on his face as though Niall hadn’t even entered the room.  Of course, it was impossible _not_ to know Niall had entered the room, because he was so fucking loud and giddy everywhere he went.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Zayn said bashfully, gesturing for Niall to sit on one of the arm chairs.

“Harry!  Didn’t even see you there,” Niall exclaimed, opening up the pizza box and allowing Zayn to take two slices.

“Yep, I’ve been here,” Harry replied nonchalantly.  “Sitting.”

“It’s like I just keep seeing you!”

“Yeah,” Harry said, letting the “unfortunately” go unspoken.

Zayn took his spot back next to Harry, and Harry sat as he listened to their aimless banter and suffered through how smitten Zayn actually was.  He was aware that Zayn was into Niall, but when he was actually in the midst of the both of them, it seemed like it was much more than a simple crush.  Niall, however, was completely neutral, and showed no signs indicating he was aware of Zayn’s intentions.  Harry was even willing to bet money Niall was as straight as a pencil.

They talked and talked, and Harry didn’t even know what it was they were talking about.  It had something to do with what was going on within the campus, so Harry understood why he was out of the loop.  He hadn’t realized that Zayn was so…out there and up to date with everything happening within the student body.  He was really making the most of this whole college thing.

“So Harry, how are things going?” Niall asked, acknowledging Harry again after what was probably half an hour.  “Is your head okay?”

Harry let out a pained laugh, and Zayn’s face twisted into confusion.  “Yep.  No concussion after all.”

“Awesome,” Niall said with a smile.

“I see you’ve brought your guitar,” Harry started, grinning at Niall as he spoke.  “Why?”

“He said he would show me how cool “Pumped Up Kicks” sounded on his guitar,” Zayn cut in, now shoving Harry over and causing him to slide down on the couch.  “Come sit here and show me!”  He patted at the spot Harry was originally in.

Niall wasted no time in grabbing his guitar and walking over to plop down between Harry and Zayn, uncomfortably close, before he started strumming away.  Harry scooted over until he was on the far end of the couch, watching as Niall played excitedly and Zayn bobbed his head to the rhythm of the song.  He started questioning what he’d done to end up in such a situation.

Niall played many, _many_ songs, and Zayn maintained the same high level of interest through each one.  He listened eagerly as Niall explained which part of the song he was playing, and indicated which note he was using and why it fit so well.  Zayn nodded, even though Harry knew perfectly well that Zayn knew nothing about guitar chords.  Sitting there was nothing short of torture.

Somewhere between the tenth or twelfth song, Harry must’ve dosed off, because when he opened his eyes again, Niall and Zayn were in the kitchen, laughing up a storm.  Harry glanced at where they were, and apparently the fact that Zayn had overflowed the kitchen sink with foamy soap was hilarious.

Niall was cackling, and Zayn was gathering the foam in his hands so he could make a beard on his face.  Niall found that even more hilarious, reaching out to smother the soap all over Zayn’s face.

Zayn giggled, and Harry knew it wasn’t his ordinary giggle.  The giggle had been filtered through a series of different flirting techniques, and Harry was truly surprised that Niall still hadn’t picked up on it.  Niall joked and laughed with him as though they were pals; as though Zayn was in The Red Rogue.  Harry let out a sigh.  He hoped Zayn wouldn’t take it too hard when he found out.

“When’s your next show anyway?” Harry heard Zayn ask, before he rinsed his face off in the sink.

“I don’t even know.  You have to ask Liam about that kinda stuff,” Niall said.  “He’s the front man.”

“I just don’t see why they would choose Liam as the front man, instead of the obvious hot blonde,” Zayn said, gesturing at Niall.

Niall flashed his perfect teeth, giving Zayn a shove.  “Liam has the voice of an angel, that’s why.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to ask Liam about your next show,” Zayn assured him, grinning sweetly at Niall.

“Thanks for being so supportive,” Niall replied, patting Zayn on the back.  “Liam’s always been stressing about how much we need some place to practice, though.  We used to practice on the theatre stage, but things got pretty wild and we ended up getting kicked out for good.”

“Of course,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

“No problem. I’ll find you a place,” Zayn said, resting his arm on the counter.

Niall’s features brightened up.  “Really?”

“Yeah, uh—“ Zayn started, scratching at the back of his head.  He hesitantly turned around and met eyes with Harry.  “Harry has a really big living room.”

“I heard my name,” Harry cut in, acting as though he hadn’t been eavesdropping the whole time.  He tried not to completely explode at the fact that Zayn had actually offered his living room.

“Zayn was just talking about how your living room is big enough for us to practice in!” Niall said.

“Don’t know why he would say that,” Harry replied, sitting up as he stretched out his arms.  He gave Zayn an intense glare, and the boy cowered under his gaze.  “More importantly, I don’t know why you guys would need to practice, considering you’re a cover band.”

“We still need to make sure we sound decent,” Niall said, shrugging and remaining unbothered by Harry’s words.  “Make sure the melodies are in sync and all that shit.”

“Well, Harry has a giant ass penthouse, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Zayn added, turning Niall back so he could face him.

Harry widened his eyes as he looked at Zayn from the couch, but the boy wouldn’t look back at him.  Harry was going to murder him once they got alone.

“Harry, that’s so cool of you!” Niall exclaimed, now turning back to Harry.  Zayn mouthed a “please, please, _please_ ” behind Niall’s back, stopping Harry before he could give a harsh “ _no”._   He sucked in a hard breath as he looked at Niall’s eager eyes, along with Zayn’s pleading ones behind him, and he couldn’t be strong.  Harry had a heart.

“It’s fine with me,” Harry said, flashing a cordial grin.  “As long as you don’t mess up anything.  The place is yours—for _one_ practice.”

Zayn grinned at Harry from behind Niall, and Niall looked like he was practically about to jump out of his shoes with excitement.

Harry smiled at the both of them, but he knew he would get Zayn back for that later.

 

~*~

 

“You don’t understand,” Harry said, reaching into his fridge to pull out a bottle of sparkling water.

“I _do_ understand,” Cecile said slowly, her legs swinging as she sat up on the counter in Harry’s kitchen.  “You’re feeling pressured by your father.”

“I’m not—“ Harry started, shaking his head before letting out a sigh.  “I just think we should start looking at this relationship more seriously.”

“We _are_ ,” Cecile laughed, pulling in Harry by the front of his shirt.  She was wearing one of Harry’s gray t-shirts, along with plaid pajama pants, and she couldn’t have looked more comfortable.  This was easily Harry’s favorite look on her.

“So, if I were to ask you to marry me right now, what would you say?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I would say, ‘I’m only eighteen’,” she replied, shaking her head and laughing some more.  “And so are you, so why are you stressing about this?  Let’s just take a nap and watch some movies.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Harry said with another sigh as Cecile continued being completely oblivious to Harry’s internal struggle.

It was Saturday evening, and as soon as Cecile had come over, she noticed something was off about Harry.  He couldn’t go another second without addressing how he was feeling.  He wasn’t going to tell her about the part where he didn’t see her in his future, however.  She didn’t need to know about that.

“Your hair is ten times better when you get out of bed and don’t do anything to it,” Cecile said, reaching out and brushing a hand over his hair.  Harry grinned and showed his dimple, but he still wasn’t done with the serious conversation.

“You look like a sleepy frog,” she added.

“You will never stop being goofy, will you?” Harry asked, his tone not as stern as before.

“As long as you keep talking about things like marriage,” she replied, poking his nose with her index finger.

Harry was about to open his mouth and say something else, when his door swung open.  He rolled his eyes at himself, because locking the door was something he needed to remember to do.

Zayn came in first, hauling a sound box through the front door, and then Marcus came after him, carrying separate pieces of his drum set.  Harry set his jaw tight as he watched them.  He’d completely forgotten about the agreement.

“Harry, can you help us move your couches?” Marcus asked, attempting to move the sofa and finding himself to be too weak.

“ _Oh,_ is this a party?” Cecile asked, far too interested for Harry’s taste.

“No, it’s annoying,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair before going over to help Marcus push one of the sofas.

Liam came in, carrying a sound box as well, followed by Niall, who was holding an additional piece of Marcus’ drum set as his own guitar was slung over his shoulder.  Niall looked around in disbelief.

“Holy shit mate.  Zayn wasn’t lying,” Niall breathed.

Louis came in last, holding absolutely nothing, as the boys went back and forth to retrieve the different equipment they needed for a proper rehearsal.  His eyes went wide as he stood in front of the entrance for a few moments, taking everything in.  Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy, because he hadn’t forgotten about that day at the library.  Harry hadn’t been able to go back into that study room since, so Louis still didn’t sit well with him.

Once the living room was clear of all couches and tables, the guitars were plugged up, Liam’s microphone was good to go, and Marcus was settled comfortably behind his drum set, Harry knew there was a noise complaint in his near future.  He couldn’t even remember why he agreed to this.

Harry figured maybe he could sit in the kitchen and drink juice while they blasted the shit out of his ears, but he quickly realized that wasn’t a good idea.  Cecile, however, seemed to be having the time of her life.  She jumped around, playing her air guitar as they practiced one of the popular songs Harry had heard on the radio before.  They enjoyed her company, soaking up every bit of her energy and putting it into their performance.  It was just like when he’d seen them for the first time; they were rather enjoyable, if Harry was being honest.

He watched as Zayn sat on the armrest of the sofa that was pushed to the wall, his eyes glued to Niall.  Niall didn’t seem to notice as he strummed, seemingly getting high off of the feeling of the guitar strings.

Harry could only take so much of everything.  As Cecile jammed out with Marcus on her air guitar for the fourth song, Harry took that as his queue to go to his bedroom and hopefully escape some of the noise.

He threw himself onto his bed face-first, letting out a sigh as he relaxed into the sheets.  He lay there for a few minutes, and before long, the music had finally stopped.  Harry was aware they were only taking a break, and he wished for them to be completely done rehearsing.  Zayn owed him big time.

He let out another relaxed sigh and rested his eyes, thinking of how people never acknowledged how good of a person he was.  How many people would let a band of wild animals rehearse in their own home?  Harry was a saint for allowing this to go down.

His peaceful thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door opening.  He didn’t stir one bit, hoping that if he ignored whoever it was, they would go away.  Whoever this person was didn’t bother him, but when he heard the sounds of hands rummaging through the belongings on top of his dresser, he finally turned his head in the duvet.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised to find Louis, looking through the different colognes, wallets, and sunglasses organized by brand on his dresser, as though it wasn’t someone else’s room.  He was wearing an oversized jean jacket and fingerless gloves, and Harry decided he quite liked those fingerless gloves.  He just didn’t like Louis.

Louis didn’t react to Harry watching him as he took his little tour of the room.  He poked through Harry’s collection of rings and watches, and that’s when Harry spoke up.

“Don’t touch,” Harry said, his voice not as threatening as he needed it to be.

“Don’t touch what?” Louis asked, blinking his eyes at Harry.  He reached in the glass box and pulled out a ring that was worth more than Harry’s car.  “This?” Louis asked.

“Yes, that,” Harry said exhaustedly, rubbing a hand down his face.

“You have a lot of stuff,” Louis noted, ignoring Harry as he continued to hold the ring.  Harry stared at him blankly, even though the boy didn’t even glance at him.

“What kinda job does a guy have to have to afford this?”

“I don’t have a job,” Harry replied.

Louis looked at him now, rolling his eyes.  “I know _you_ don’t.  What do your parents do?”

Harry shook his head in frustration, not having the energy to even try to act cordial with Louis.  “Just—put the ring back.  It’s very valuable and important to me.”

“How valuable?”

“It’s my mum’s,” Harry said meekly, sitting up in his bed.  “It’s priceless.”

“How can it be priceless and valuable at the same time?” Louis asked, an amused look settling on his face.

“Just put it _back,_ ” Harry said, his voice growing impatient.

“I could definitely pay off my student loans with this,” Louis laughed, closing his fist with the ring in it.  Harry was immediately out of his bed, but not before Louis was dashing into his bathroom, chuckling as he ran.  Harry wasted no time in chasing him, already fully engaged in Louis vs. Harry Round Two.  Louis wasn’t going to win this time.  That was Harry’s favorite diamond ring, because his mum had given it to him right before he boarded the plane for college.  He’d known how much it meant to her, so the fact that she gave it to him made it all the more sentimental.

Harry’s long and spacious bathroom lead right into his walk-in closet, and Harry was glad to chase Louis all the way in there as the small boy giggled maliciously.

Louis abruptly fell to the ground before he crossed the threshold from the bathroom to the closet, wincing in pain.  Harry’s features softened as he looked at him, now holding onto his knee.  He knelt down to Louis’ level, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Louis just laughed and shot up, dashing into Harry’s closet.  Harry shook his head at himself and ran in, pushing through his clothes and finding Louis, trapped from having nowhere else to run.

“Give it,” Harry ordered, holding a hand out for Louis, who was _still_ giggling.

“Give what?” Louis asked, putting his hands up, both of which were empty.

Harry breathed in and out, struggling to contain his rage.  “If you think I’m beyond searching a boy so I can get my shit back, you’re mistaken.”

“Fine.  Search me,” Louis said, opening his arms wide in front of Harry.

Harry blinked, not really expecting it to come to this.  He legitimately had no idea where that ring went.  Louis was no magician (nor genius), however, so it was probably just under his sleeve.

Harry reached into the sleeve of Louis’ jean jacket as the boy continued to remain thoroughly amused.  He reached into the other sleeve, and still found nothing.  He patted down Louis’ sides, his pockets, the chest of his white t-shirt, and he still found nothing.  This boy was good at hiding that ring.  Harry still wasn’t going to come out of the closet without it, though.

He leaned over Louis and pulled the neck of Louis’ jacket back so he could see if the boy stuck it down the back of his shirt.

His breathing immediately came to a halt once his eyes were stunned at what they’d seen.

His entire body wasn’t now frozen because he had found his ring.  He definitely, most _certainly,_ did not find a ring, but he found something else.  Something that immediately caused a shriek to escape his mouth as he panicked, his head accidentally hitting the coat rack.  What he found was truly horrifying.

He rubbed at his head where the pain was starting to surface, breathing in and out much more hastily now as Louis blinked up at him.

“Um…” Harry started, his breath coming out a bit shaky as he stared back at Louis.

Louis looked at him questioningly, as though he’d just done something weird—which made sense, because Harry had just shrieked and hit his head hard on a coat rack.

“So…is there a reason you just fucking screamed like a girl, or…?” Louis asked.

“Um—no, I,” Harry started, scratching at his head.  “I just saw a spider— _thought_ I saw a spider.”

Louis nodded slowly, making it clear he was thoroughly weirded out by Harry’s overly panicked state.

“Just a spider,” Harry repeated, this time more certain, and not as though he was unsure of what he saw.

He was exactly sure of what he saw, and it wasn’t a spider.

It was a _fucking_ red rose, with what looked like a _fucking_ dagger running through the middle of it—at the top of his spine.  Harry was aware that the lights were dim in his closet, and that down the back of Louis’ shirt was even dimmer, but he would know that tattoo _anywhere_.  He lived with it on his skin, walked past it in the mirror every day, so he knew it like the back of his hand.  He just never thought he’d see it on anyone else.  He never thought he’d see it… _there_.

“Here,” Louis said, and Harry hadn’t noticed that he had somehow retrieved the ring.  It was now between his index finger and thumb, as though it’d been there the whole time.  Harry’s mind was becoming a blur.

Since Harry wasn’t moving, Louis reached out and took Harry’s right hand, opening it up and placing the ring in the middle of it.

“ _Do_ you need medical attention?” Louis asked slowly, as though Harry was a child, closing Harry’s hand around the ring.

Harry just stared at him, his eyes wide and bearing a hint of disbelief.  For the first time, he noticed that Louis’ eyes were blue, and he could very well see every miniscule detail contained in each iris.  Louis was staring back at him, but not in the intense, overwhelmed way Harry was.  Harry felt his breath escaping him with every second he spent holding his gaze.

He sharply pulled his hand away from Louis’, shaking his head in order to communicate that he did not need medical attention.  He was perfectly fine.  This was fine.

He looked down at his feet, not having the emotional capacity to look him in the eye anymore.  It was suddenly becoming too much.

“Harry?” he heard Cecile call, coming from the entrance of the closet.

Harry and Louis turned to look at her, and there she was, in Harry’s t-shirt, walking towards them.

“Louis, they’re calling for you,” she said, giving Louis a pat on the shoulder.  “And Harry, I feel like I heard you scream.”

“Macho man Harry here thought he saw a spider and freaked the fuck out,” Louis said, nodding his head and rocking on his heels.  “I’ll leave you two alone, though.  My band needs me.”

Just like that, he was gone, and Harry was left with Cecile.  Even though nothing had happened, and nothing was _ever_ going to happen, he instantly felt guilty.

Harry slid his back down the wall until he was on the ground, and Cecile sat along with him.  He let out a sigh as Cecile curled up against him, hooking her arm around his.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied, before sucking in his bottom lip.  He had to restrain from bashing the back of his head against the closet wall repeatedly.  They sat in silence as the muffled sounds of singing and guitar riffs started making its way into their ears.

“Harry, you’ve been acting a little weird lately,” Cecile admitted.  “If you need to talk about anything, you should know I’m always open to listen.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, but his face conveyed an entirely different case.  He was glad Cecile was curled up against his side, unable to see his expression of fear mixed with uncertainty and just a dash of denial.  The urge to bang his head against the wall crept up on him again, but he stifled it, instead going for a long and exhausted sigh.

Harry still did _not_ believe in soulmates.  He couldn’t believe in soulmates.  He would never believe in soulmates.

And why the fuck would it be _Louis?_

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

Harry had always been one to get to class a bit early in order to give himself time to organize his journals and notebooks right before class would start.  Today, however, he was _exceptionally_ early.  He couldn’t bear to stay in the deafening silence of his apartment for a moment longer.  Even though he usually liked peace and quiet, he was craving the buzz of familiar voices as the lecture hall filled up.  He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

He was sat in the classroom, along with four other students—two of which were a couple, and the other two of which were sitting alone and doing the exact same as Harry.  Harry listened to the couple’s conversation, because there was literally nothing else to listen to.  They were all gushy and overly disgusting as they reflected on a splendid concert they’d apparently gone to that weekend.

Harry thought for a moment as he pressed his pencil eraser against his temple.  He hadn’t been to a concert in a while, but that was because he didn’t really have a burning passion to see many artists live.  He had his fair share of favorite singers and bands, though.

He thought about how nice it would be to take Cecile to a concert, imagining how her eyes would light up if she ever found out Harry got her front row tickets to see Beyoncé, because she was her favorite.

He narrowed his eyes down at his notebook, trying to suppress his racing mind.  It was too quiet; nobody was talking loud enough.  Where was The Red Rogue with their inability to remain calm when he needed them?

Harry hated how much he’d been doubting himself lately.  He _did_ like Cecile.  A _lot_.  Nothing would make him think otherwise, and he felt like a fraud for even giving his intentions with Cecile a second thought.

As more students filled the room, Harry started feeling more at ease.  There were noises and conversing and yelling, and Harry felt comfortable.  No longer could his mind drift off and end up on the one thing he didn’t want to think about.

He tapped his pencil frantically on the table as he waited for Zayn, whom he shared this lecture with.  Ironically, he didn’t even realize when Zayn arrived.

“What’s up?” Zayn greeted, and Harry was surprised to find Zayn already sat down next to him.

“Hey,” Harry replied.

“You couldn’t meet up with me or anything?  Shoot me a text?” Zayn asked.  “I didn’t know you would be here so early.”

“Oh…I just figured I could get an early start,” Harry said, his dimple popping out as he pulled his Literature folder out from his bag.  “An extra early start.”

“Still could’ve texted me.”

“Sorry.”

“You seem like you’re on edge,” Zayn said observantly, retrieving his textbook out of his bag.

“Me?” Harry laughed stiffly.  “I’m not on edge.  I actually feel very… _chill_.”

Zayn stared at him for a moment, trying to get a real answer out of him, and then he broke out in laughter.  “You are so weird, you know that?”

“It’s my defining quality,” Harry joked.

Zayn shook his head fondly.  “Oh yeah, thanks again for letting Niall and his boys use your place.”

“Niall and _his boys_?” Harry laughed.  “Wow, you really have Niall tunnel vision.”

“I mean, I don’t have time to say Niall, Marcus, and whatever the other ones' names are,” Zayn said.  “Besides, when Niall’s there, everyone else seems to fade into the background.”

Harry rolled his eyes and let out a breath as he slumped in his chair.  “Louis and Liam.  The other ones' names are Louis and Liam.”  He closed his mouth and grinded his teeth together, hoping Zayn wouldn’t notice.

“Look at you, remembering names,” Zayn teased.

Harry stared blankly at his lap, trying to stop his mind from racing.  He finally shook his head and looked back up at Zayn.

“You’re being extremely dramatic about this Niall thing,” Harry said, staying on the subject at hand.  “I’ve met the boy, and he’s not as perfect and angelic as you make him seem.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“ _You_ don’t even know him.”

“Whatever,” Zayn said, letting out a sigh.  “There’s a big party this weekend that he told me about.”

Harry nodded his head slowly before opening his mouth to speak, only to find himself beaten to the punch by Zayn.

“And you’re going.  No questions asked.”

Harry didn’t have the strength to argue, so he just closed his mouth and crossed his arms.  He would find a way to get out of it by the time the weekend came around anyway.  Harry wasn’t really a fan of parties, because they were always full of sweaty people who didn’t know how to hold their liquor.  He didn’t really know how most students found it fun.

The professor started signaling for class to start, and Harry couldn’t have been more grateful.  Zayn had appeared to be very insightful that morning, and Harry almost felt like the boy was seeing right through him.  The less they got to talk, the better.

Harry got through his day peacefully, because there was nothing worth stressing over.  He used that same mindset as he flew through the rest of the week.  Every day was just as normal as the last, which made sense, because everything was _normal_.

But…

Harry didn’t like to think of himself as oblivious.  He was aware of what was constantly in the back of his mind all week.  He came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter.

Just because he thought he saw his very own one of a kind tattoo on another person’s body, it didn’t mean anything would change.

Harry hadn’t even seen it that well, anyway.  He was _very_ convinced of what he’d seen that day in his closet, but the more he thought about it, the more it become clear that the dark blob of ink could’ve been anything.  It was a familiar pattern, but it still could’ve been the result of Harry’s colorful imagination.  If Harry wanted a confirmation of what he thought he saw, he would have to get Louis to take off his shirt in broad daylight, which he would never do.

Louis was on his mind too, but not in the way that a _soulmate_ should be on his mind.  He just didn’t get it.  If the universe was going to make him think someone was his soulmate, it should’ve at least made it believable.  Not only was Louis not… _similar_ to anyone he’d dated before, but he was also someone Harry couldn’t stand in the least.  Harry hadn’t even felt anything when he saw Louis for the first time.

Well, he hadn’t felt an undeniable attraction at least.  Louis _was_ the only band member he was immediately drawn to, but all of that interest went down the drain as soon as he spoke.  Sort of.

Harry had to shake all of the idiotic thoughts out of his brain.  He did _not_ believe in soulmates in the slightest.  The fact that he was even thinking about it and thoroughly analyzing it scared him a bit.

 

~*~

 

Harry pulled Zayn’s wrist toward himself before spraying it with his Creed Aventus cologne.  He brought Zayn’s wrist up to his nose and sniffed a few times before scrunching up his face.

“Why can’t you just spray it on your own wrist?” Zayn asked with a sigh.

“I only have two wrists, Z,” Harry replied, putting the cap back on the cologne before tossing it in the trash.

“Who even buys cologne without smelling it first?”  Zayn asked.  “Who _does_ that?”

“You showed up to my house shirtless, Zayn,” Harry said as he grabbed another glass bottle off of his bathroom counter.  “Who does _that_?”

“I needed help with clothing options,” Zayn replied.

“It’s a fucking party, full of simple minded kids who use alcohol and drugs to find joy,” Harry said, grabbing Zayn’s other wrist and spraying it.  “This is perfume, by the way, but I figured it could pass as cologne.  I secretly like perfumes better.”

“I didn’t come here so you could use me as your scratch n’ sniff,” Zayn sighed once Harry finished taking a whiff of the scent.

Harry’s eyes widened with amusement as he took in the citrusy fragrance.  “ _Oh,_ I like that one.”

“Great, now can you help me?” Zayn asked.

Harry sprayed against his collarbone, rubbing it in, and then on each of his wrists before rubbing them together.

“Anything to get you to put a shirt on,” Harry replied, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he inhaled the heavenly scent now attached to his body.

Zayn went into Harry’s bedroom for a moment as Harry examined himself in the bathroom mirror.  He’d settled on a see through periwinkle shirt, along with matching blue rimmed sunglasses to go in his hair.  He’d planned not to go to this party altogether, but Zayn wasn’t buying his excuse of having too much coursework on his hands.

He didn’t even know what to do at a party.  He wasn’t going to tell Zayn that he was afraid of feeling out of place, because voicing his vulnerabilities wasn’t his thing.  He would probably find a couch to nap on, along with a hopefully unspiked soda.

“Which one screams ‘I want to have hot sex with you, but I also value you as a person and would be up for a cuddle?’” Zayn asked upon reentering Harry’s bathroom.  He had two shirts held out in front of him, one of them being a navy blue band t-shirt that Harry always admired on him, and the other being a black and white baseball tee with cut sleeves.

Harry squinted his eyes, scanning them between both shirts and biting his tongue at the urge to make fun of Zayn for being so ridiculous.

“Well, Niall wouldn’t tell the difference anyway, so.”

“Yes, he would.”

“That boy is completely clueless, Zayn,” Harry said, trying to hold back laughter.  “But, I’m gonna go with the band t-shirt just for the heck of it.”  He patted Zayn on the shoulder as he made his way past him and towards his bedroom.

“Why must you shit on my dreams?” Zayn asked, his voice muffled as he pulled on the chosen shirt.

“Because, you’re chasing some ridiculous conspiracy, and I’m trying to save you as best I can,” Harry replied, plopping down on the edge of his bed and scrolling through his phone.

Zayn drew in a breath as though he was about to say something, but he held it in, placing his hands in the pockets of his tight jeans.

Harry paused his scrolling as a sudden thought came to mind that he hadn’t bothered worrying about until now.

“Is Louis…and Liam and Marcus gonna be there?”

Zayn thought for a moment, and then nodded his head.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.  They’re a package deal.”

“I’ve noticed,” Harry replied bitterly, before continuing to browse social media through his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just…” Harry started, his mouth hung open as he pondered what he would say.  There was really nothing to say, after all.  He couldn’t tell Zayn something he wasn’t even sure of.

“I don’t really like Louis,” Harry said easily, his face twisting in distaste.  “He’s kind of annoying.”

“There’s gonna be tons of people.  I doubt you’ll run into him,” Zayn replied, grabbing his phone off of Harry’s dresser and pocketing it.  “Now let’s go.”

Harry dreaded the entire ride there as he let out sighs and yawns, intent to let Zayn know he wasn’t pumped about being forced to go.  Zayn, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy as he drove, and Harry knew that every upward curve of his lips was courtesy of that darn blonde guitarist.

When they got there, Harry could admit the house was pretty big, even though he’d seen bigger houses.  He was already turned off by a drunken girl being dragged out of the front door by her best friend, followed by the shriek that escaped her when the friend accidentally lost a grip on her.

Zayn hadn’t even stood by Harry for another second once Niall spotted him and called his name.  Harry was currently occupying himself with fruit punch and pointless conversation.

“So, what’s it like owning part of a beach?” a girl, whose name he hoped was Maya, asked him.  They had been talking about nothing for quite some time now, and she seemed thoroughly interested in asking Harry about his possessions.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” Harry replied nonchalantly, sipping from his cup and trying not to let how crowded the kitchen was upset him.  His ears were pounding from how loud the music was, causing Maya to have to raise her voice to an even squeakier pitch when she spoke to him.

“So, like, you have a part of the ocean all to yourself?” she asked, flashing a smile and giggling unbearably.

“Basically yeah,” Harry said with a nod and a display of his right dimple.

“Care to give me swimming lessons sometime?” she asked, her voice noticeably an octave lower as she reached out and played with one of Harry’s curls.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, now regretting the decision to smile.  His dimples were both a blessing and a curse.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said bluntly, and the girl’s flirtatious and interested nature immediately shifted.

“Oh,” she replied, and then she was gone.

 _What a fun time this is_ , Harry thought as he took another sip of his drink.  He didn’t have time to become discouraged by the fact that him having a girlfriend deemed him pointless, before another girl was approaching him and they were falling into conversation.

So he spent most of his time in the kitchen, avoiding the spectacle of people taking body shots as he engaged with different girls.  He let them all know he had a girlfriend before things got too questionable, because he _did_ have a girlfriend damn it, and he would have one for a _long_ time.  Even though he used up so much time at the party letting girls down after useless banter, he was glad he wasn’t left alone to do nothing.

After a while, the only thing on Harry’s mind was finding the loo.

“Excuse me, but do any of you girls know where the bathroom is?” he asked, directing his question at the three different women standing in front of him.

One of the girls eagerly nodded before pointing him in another direction.  He nodded at her sweetly before making his way past them, feeling a little relieved that he could enter a different setting.

The living room was even worse than the kitchen however, because as soon as he’d stepped into it, he was bumped into exceptionally hard.

“ _Fuck_ ,” that familiar voice of Louis’ spat, and Harry cringed at the feeling of cold drinks spilling down his own back.  He turned around to find out who he bumped into, even though he already knew.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going please,” Louis hissed, bending down to pick up the two glasses he dropped, before shoving past Harry into the kitchen.

Harry held the back of his own shirt away from his skin so he wouldn’t feel the uncomfortable sensation of wetness.  “Sorry,” he said apologetically, turning around to find the boy already gone.

Harry sucked in a breath before turning back around and continuing on his journey to the bathroom.  Once he got to his destination and did his business (after having to wait in line for an extensive amount of time), he turned around in the mirror to examine the back of his shirt and find any stains.  Luckily, the stain of the spill sort of faded in his shirt to the point where it was barely noticeable.

He washed his hands in the sink and tried to ignore the fact that Louis was about as sympathetic as a vicious coyote.  He couldn’t even believe that he’d been as delusional as to think he’d seen that rose and dagger on his back.  Harry was now starting to take great pride in that tattoo.  It was supposed to be exclusive; to be printed at the top of Harry’s back and Harry’s back only.  Louis wasn’t even worthy enough to possess such a highly exquisite tattoo.

Once Harry stepped back out into the party atmosphere, he should’ve expected he would run into another part of the pack.

“Harry!” Marcus exclaimed, throwing an arm around Harry and pulling him in.  Harry could smell a bit of vodka in his breath, but Marcus didn’t seem too disoriented.

“Hey…” Harry replied, struggling to match his enthusiasm.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you at a party!” he said, his words a bit slurred as he clung on to Harry.

“I’m not too keen on social gatherings,” Harry said, pressing his lips into a grin.

“That’s too bad,” Marcus replied, shaking his head and smiling ridiculously.  “More people should be able to know how fucking cool you are!”

“I’m not that cool,” Harry said, shaking his head while still being under Marcus’ grasp.

“Trust me, you are!” he claimed.  “No one here has been as nice to us as you.”

Harry took a moment to actually consider what Marcus was saying.  He was pretty sure all of this praise was coming from his current state of drunken happiness, but he still felt flattered nonetheless.  He felt a little bad for always thinking badly about their band.

“You didn’t bring Cecile?” Marcus asked.

“No, she’s having a girl’s night,” Harry replied, toying with the hem of his shirt.

“I see,” Marcus said, swaying on his feet.  “She’s a keeper, that one.”

Harry grinned halfheartedly, now ready for the conversation to be over.  “I’m aware.”

The song that was being blasted in the speakers changed, and Marcus’ eyes widened.  “I’ll catch you later dude!  This is my favorite song!”

Harry nodded him away as he disappeared in the crowd, way too pumped for his own health.

Harry was feeling very much over this party, which was unfortunate, because Zayn had driven him there.  He was too overwhelmed to even begin to search for Zayn, so he settled on slipping his sunglasses down over his eyes and going out into the backyard, where there were still many people, but it was significantly less crowded.

There was a Jacuzzi out there, and it appeared to be quite the spectacle.  It had purple and blue lights bordering the insides of it, causing the water to look breathtakingly gorgeous.  Harry suddenly wanted to know who the owner of the house was, just so he could find out where they got their pool lights.

He rested his back against the wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching as people conversed lightheartedly and submerged in the bubbling water with no regard for their clothing.

The sight of the aesthetically pleasing pool, combined with the overall chill atmosphere of the backyard, had Harry feeling rather peaceful.  He even rested his eyes.

The state of serenity lasted for about ten seconds before the loud sound of yelling and chanting pulled Harry out of his element.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw the group of what one could only identify as the _frat boys,_ screaming and lifting different victims against their will before throwing them into the Jacuzzi.  He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the sad occurrence happen over and over again to unsuspecting guys.       One splash came after another, and Harry cringed at how unfortunate it was that they were going to have to walk around in soaking wet clothes.

Harry made no eye contact as he leaned against the wall, even though it didn’t make a difference because of his shielded eyes.

Harry never understood what the appeal of being in a fraternity was, and as he sat there observing the ridiculous spectacle of wild boys yelling and bombarding people, he was certain he would never understand.  He always did his best to avoid them at all costs.

“Harry, you want in?” one of the boys with red hair asked, and Harry didn’t even react before all the rest of his boys were yelling, pumping their fists in the air and making their way towards him.  “Get him!” another one screamed.

Harry didn’t think—he just _did_.  He turned around and opened the door in order to enter back into the house, keeping his mind set on the fact that he did not want to have to go back home in soaking wet clothes.  Chlorine would ruin the material of his two hundred dollar outfit, so he wasn’t taking any chances.

No matter how far he went, he still heard their loud and energetic chants close behind.    Harry panicked as he picked up his pace, realizing they really weren’t going to let him get away.

“C’mon Harry!” another one yelled.

Harry didn’t pause his stride for even a moment as he made his way up the stairs to where the bathroom and bedrooms were.  It was one against about ten, so he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against them if they caught up to him.

The bathroom was occupied, and Harry had to push past a bunch of people in the waiting line before stalking down the hallway.  Their voices were distant now, but he still wasn’t taking any chances.  He twisted open the first unlocked door he found, stepping inside and closing the door behind himself.  As soon as he locked it, there was a fruitless attempt at opening the door on the other side.  A fist banged against the door.

“We’ll get you next time, Harry!” a frattie yelled, and then there were retreating footsteps.  Harry let out a sigh of relief, along with a tiny smirk.  He stood with his hand still on the door knob, taking a second to catch his breath.

“Hi,” he heard from behind.

Harry pressed his lips together before slowly turning around to find another human sitting on the queen sized bed in the room.

“Hey, Louis,” Harry said, forcing out a casual grin.

“Wow, you just can’t stay away from me, can you?” Louis asked, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Harry bit on his bottom lip for a moment before speaking.  “It’s _you_ that can’t stay away from _me_.”

Louis blinked at him, thoroughly unimpressed.  “You _are_ aware that you just walked into a room I was already in, right?”

“I didn’t _know_ you would be in here,” Harry said, stuffing his hands into his back pockets.  “I was trying to protect my own life.  Frat boys are wild.”

“Are they?  Or do you just not know how to have fun?” Louis asked.

Harry laughed, even though it was lacking in authenticity.  He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, as opposed to turning around and leaving the room.

“I _know_ how to have fun.  I just don’t want to get thrown into a hot tub against my own will.  That’s not my definition of fun.”

Louis smoothed one of his hands against the duvet as he spoke.  “That was a really smooth move, by the way.  Being a pathetic klutz and making me spill my drinks.”

“You spilled them on _me_ ,” Harry replied, a bit of irritation in his tone.  He shook his head, stopping himself before he could give Louis what he wanted.  Louis _wanted_ him to be irritated.  He probably got some ridiculous high off of it.

“Why are you in here, anyway?  I know this isn’t your house,” Harry said.

Louis smirked in a dark way that almost made Harry uncomfortable.  The way he looked up at Harry through his eyelashes only made Harry realize how long they actually were.  Such a precious gift for an undeserving person.

“I’m waiting for someone,” he replied slowly.

“Oh,” Harry replied, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands.  He took them out of his pockets and played with his fingernails.  He hadn’t the slightest idea of why his feet weren’t moving to help him exit the room.

After what seemed like about thirty seconds of Louis staring at Harry from the bed, and Harry looking at his hands, Louis slid himself down from the bed.  Harry took note of the fuzzy socks he had on; he looked very comfortable.

“Harry?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

“Hmm?” Harry replied, looking up as Louis approached him.

“Unlock the door,” he said, gesturing behind Harry.

Suddenly the sound of the door knob being vigorously shaken behind him caught his attention.  He hadn’t even realized someone had been struggling to get inside the room until now.  He turned around and unlocked the shaking doorknob, opening the door to a guy that was a tad bit taller than himself.  He had perfect black hair and bright hazel eyes, and Harry almost cowered in his presence.

“I’ve been trying to get in for a minute,” he said, completely ignoring Harry’s presence and making his way to Louis.  Harry couldn’t even linger before Louis was pushing him out, shutting the door behind him.

Harry stood outside the door, hanging around for a few more seconds out of lack of anything better to do.  He thought about eavesdropping, but he didn’t hear much talking going on inside the bedroom, so he decided to make his way somewhere else.  He still needed to stay clear of any frat boys, however.

He needed a drink—one that actually had a little something in it.

He found his way back to the kitchen and poured himself a drink out of a weird container of reddish liquid that he couldn’t identify.  It stung a little going down, but not too much.

“What’s the matter? Rosé Spritzer too much for you?” he heard a familiar voice ask from his peripheral.  Whoever this was must’ve witnessed Harry’s extremely sour face expression in response to drinking whatever it was in the jug.

Harry was sure he’d heard the voice somewhere, but it obviously wasn’t an important enough voice to make him remember who this person was.  When he turned his head to respond, the face of the boy caused everything to come back to him.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, letting out an exhausted sigh.

He remembered this guy’s name to be Eli, and he remembered him so well because he’d acted so rudely to Harry for absolutely no reason.  He had a few classes with him, he could feel the boy’s distaste toward him from wherever he sat, and he had no idea what this guy’s deal was.  Usually when people disliked him, they had a reason.

“I don’t _want_ anything,” Eli said, making his way past Harry and pouring himself some of the same drink.  “I just want a drink without having to walk past a douche to get it.”

Harry tapped his fingers against the glass he had been drinking from.  He had no idea why he had been having so many instances where he got into it with people that didn’t like him.  He was a _good_ person.  He’d already dealt with Louis, so he didn’t want to deal with Eli.

“What, are you gonna call your dad?  Your little girlfriend?” Eli continued, a taunting smile on his lips as Harry bit the inside of his cheek.

“My _little girlfriend_ has a name,” Harry said.

“Don’t care,” Eli replied, before taking a sip out of his drink and not wincing at all—very different from how Harry took it.

Harry’s head was suddenly pounding.  He knew he couldn’t trust himself to take even one sip of alcohol.  Most of the headache was probably coming from the stress of being near Eli, though.

But maybe it was also coming from Louis.

For some reason, as he stood there, coming up with witty responses to Eli’s aggressively harsh insults, Louis remained in the back of his mind.  The knowledge that Louis was engaging in activities with that guy in the bedroom at that exact moment had some sort of affect on him, and he didn’t know why.

He didn’t trust that guy that had entered the bedroom.  He didn’t really know that guy, but he didn’t trust him.  No one that good looking could be trusted.

Harry kind of wanted to know what exactly was going on in that bedroom.  He’d made assumptions, but he was now realizing he could be completely wrong.  Was Louis dating that guy?

Harry scrunched a hand in his hair, messing it up.  He was frustrated by how much he cared.

He set the drink on the counter and struggled to find the nearest exit, desperate for fresh air.  His headache was still bothering him, and he wanted to go home more than anything.

He wanted to get his brain to stop thinking about Louis, and how he was currently in that bedroom.  He wanted his brain to stop thinking about how, out of all the people in that giant house, he managed to run into Louis twice.  He hadn’t even seen Zayn once since they parted ways.

He entered into the night sky, where there were still some kids standing around on the front porch.  He breathed in the air, taking deep inhales as he tried to find Zayn’s car.  He hoped Zayn left it unlocked as he often did.

After several minutes of aimless wandering, he eventually gave up on trying to find Zayn’s car and propped himself up on the hood of one of the many cars parked in front of the mansion.  He gazed up at the sky full of stars, feeling grateful that he was getting a break from the stress of being around so many people.  He cherished moments like these.

He thought his mind would quiet down, but that was far from the case.  He was forced to think about what he’d been trying so hard _not_ to think about for the past couple of days.

If soulmates, somehow, hypothetically, managed to exist, it definitely wouldn’t happen this way.  It didn’t make any sense.  He could never look at Louis in the same way he looked at Cecile.

What made this whole fiasco all the more unrealistic was the fact that, every time Louis and Harry came in contact with each other, they were less than cordial.  It was almost as though they were competitively rude.  It seemed like Louis didn’t like him even as a person, so liking him as a soulmate wasn’t very likely.

Harry took another breath as he looked up, willing his mind to stop racing.  After a few minutes of sitting in silence, the faint sound of party music continuing in the background, his thoughts were finally starting to quiet down, and his head was no longer aching.

“Why are you on top of my car?” a voice asked, cutting into his serene moment.

Harry closed his eyes, shutting them tightly as he sighed.  “Holy shit.”

“ _Holy shit_ is right,” Louis said as he pressed the button to unlock his car.  That Harry was sitting on.

Harry pushed himself down from the hood of the car.  “Did you have fun?” he asked.

“Giving a blowjob?  Yes,” Louis replied.

That threw Harry off more than it needed to, but Louis didn’t get to see his reaction, because he was already in his car, backing up and driving away while Harry stood in the dark with a scrunched up nose.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he squinted, suffering through the internal struggle of whether to continue or not to continue.  He wanted to stop, but he simply couldn’t.

He was lying on his back on his bed, eyes quickly becoming sore at having stared into his phone screen for so long, thumbs gradually growing fatigued from having scrolled so vigorously.

He hadn’t even realized how dark the day had gotten until he looked at his surroundings, finding himself unable to see a thing that wasn’t lit up on his phone screen.  Even though he couldn’t see, he was well aware of Cecile’s presence due to the muffled sounds coming from his walk-in closet.

One weak moment of giving in and hitting up the search engine to google “soulmates”, turned into about forty-five minutes of darting his eyes up and down the screen as he read intently.  Still, he didn’t believe in it, but the stories and different accounts were surprisingly addictive.

“Why don’t you have anything that I can look cute in?” he heard Cecile ask from the closet, followed by footsteps starting their approach.

“Dunno,” Harry replied monotonously, eyes glued to the screen.

“Harry, this is a serious problem.”

Harry let out a huff as he continued reading, focused on the story about a middle aged lady having known her “soulmate” since pre-school.

“Harry.  Are you even listening?” he heard Cecile ask frantically.

Harry finally turned his face away from the screen, finding the dark figure of Cecile perched against the wall with her arms crossed.

He gave her a little grin to ease her pain.  “Yeah, yeah.  I probably _do_ have some clothes in there for you to wear; you just have to look harder.”

She scrunched up her nose at him as she pushed herself off of the wall.  “You’re just trying to get me out of your way so you can bury your face in your phone again.”

“Not true,” Harry called out, before going back to focusing on his phone.  He paused before he could read anything though, letting out a sigh.  He looked in the direction of the bathroom to where Cecile had disappeared, and he sighed again.

He couldn’t help feeling bad, even though he had no reason to.  Here Cecile was, craving his attention and keeping him company when no one else would, and he was too occupied in getting engaged with a conspiracy that was oddly intriguing.

He read so many different stories about various people running into their soulmates an alarming amount of times.  Apparently it was one of the defining aspects of having a soulmate; there was a certain day set in stone for when a person was supposed to meet their soulmate, and when that day came, the person would continue to run into their soulmate frequently, as though the universe was trying to push them together like a little girl with her dolls.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d ran into Louis three times in one night when he went to that party, but he was well aware that it could’ve been a string of coincidences.  The mansion _was_ pretty big, but still, there had to be some other explanation as to how Harry ran into him so many times.

After reading about someone initially disliking their “soulmate” and getting a queasy feeling in his stomach, he finally locked his phone and set it aside.  He didn’t need to get too caught up in fiction, anyway.

He rested his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling and willing himself to bring his mind to a halt.  He wished there was a rationale for why he was doing this to himself.

The way the different people wrote their experiences, it was so detailed, so passionate, so _certain_ , but Harry also knew that people lied on the internet every day.

“So,” he heard Cecile say, muffled by her act of pulling one of Harry’s big sweaters over her head.  “How do you feel about a double date with Liam and his girlfriend?”

“ _What?_ ”

Cecile giggled as she settled on the bed next to Harry.  She lay on her stomach, elbows resting on the duvet, as opposed to Harry, who was lying on his back.

“He mentioned the idea to me once,” she said with a shrug.

Harry pursed his lips for a moment, trying to figure out when she could’ve had the time to have a proper conversation with Liam.

“Yeah, I was planning on never seeing any of those boys again,” Harry replied with a shake of his head.

Cecile shoved him playfully.  “Why?  They’re nice.”

“They annoy the shit out of me.”

“You hate everything, don’t you?”

“No, I actually happen to like a lot of things, and you should know that more than anyone.”

Cecile blew a long yawn into her fist, and Harry was genuinely surprised, because this was a new record for how early in the day she was ready to go to sleep.  She rarely stayed up past eleven unless her friends were over, or she was out partying.

“Besides, I didn’t even know Liam had a girlfriend.”

“He does, and she’s super cute,” Cecile replied, before yawning again.

“You’re tired,” Harry declared, already beginning to open up his arms for her.

She giggled as she crawled over to him and snuggled herself under the duvet.

“This is just a nap though,” she mumbled, turning so her back faced Harry.  “I’ll be awake in like an hour.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, even though he knew that wasn’t going to be the case.  Every supposed “nap” always turned into Cecile waking up smack in the dead of the night or about two hours before dawn.  He didn’t mind though; he was never one to turn down an extra chance to sleep.

As he snuggled up behind Cecile like he always did, he could immediately sense her body going less tense as she eased into his touch.  He found that ironic, because spooning was a completely different experience for him than it was for her.

As he laid there, already hearing Cecile’s breaths go slow, with his eyes blinded by and mouth choking on Cecile’s wild hair, left arm squished against the mattress, and chest growing sweaty, he reflected on how there had never been a time where he enjoyed this.

He enjoyed sleeping and could care less if he had company or not, but he _hated_ spooning—at least, the way Cecile wanted to do it.  He always fell asleep long after Cecile did because it took him a while to get comfortable.

He stared blankly at dark nothingness, blinking and reflecting on some of the things he’d been thinking about.

The start of a new school week was going to be upon him the next day, and he planned to make the best of every second.  He agreed with himself that all he had to do was avoid Louis.  It was a big campus; he didn’t even have any classes with the boy anyway, so how hard could it be to simply avoid such a tiny and insignificant being?

He fell asleep a bit more peacefully, thinking about how easy it would be to never see Louis again and completely forget about the crazy soulmate phase he’d just had.

 

~*~

 

Harry had barely gotten through his first few lectures, and when he used his break to try and get some studying in, he found that he was in desperate need of some company.

He hadn’t seen Louis at all so far, so that was definitely progress.

He went over to Zayn’s, intent on having someone to study with, unless of course the blonde ball of happiness happened to be there.  He hadn’t talked to Zayn since that party, so they had a bit of catching up to do.

“H!” Zayn exclaimed as soon as he opened the door for Harry.

“Hey, I just didn’t wanna study alone,” Harry said with a shrug as Zayn ushered him in.

“Well, you definitely came to the perfect place, then,” Zayn replied happily.

Harry paused in his steps once he noticed two figures lounging in Zayn’s living room, snacking on a central bowl of popcorn and laughing up a storm.  His breath halted when he realized they were Niall and Louis.

Zayn pushed him lightly.  “C’mon.”

Harry would’ve turned right around, but Niall and Louis had already noticed him, so he took the walk of shame, making his way over to the living room.  He didn’t even know where to sit—there was an open area of couch next to Louis, but he _didn’t_ want to get any closer to Louis than he already was.

“I didn’t know they would be here,” Harry said, not holding back in making it sound like a blatant whine.

“What, do you not appreciate my humor?” Louis asked, blinking his eyes up at Harry.

Harry shrugged off his comment and took a seat on the armrest of the couch Zayn and Niall were sitting on.

“Harry!” Niall started, using that overly excited tone he always spoke in.  “I didn’t even see you at the party!  Zayn and I had such a great time!”  He put a friendly arm around Zayn’s shoulder as if it was nothing, but Harry could see how discreetly flustered the boy got.

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” Harry replied.  “Zayn dragged me there and then ditched me.”

He ignored the sound of Louis’ snickering.

“I did _not_ ditch you!” Zayn interjected.  “I told you where I was gonna be.”

“Whatever,” Harry replied with a fake grin.

As Niall went back into whatever he’d been talking about before Harry arrived, Harry realized he had come there for absolutely no reason; there was no way he was going to get any studying in with such a lack of silence.

He _wa_ s a person with consideration for other people’s feelings; he wasn’t going to just leave right out and let them know he had a high level of distaste towards them.  He also wasn’t going to give Louis the satisfaction.  Louis had driven him out of too many places, and he hadn’t even known the boy for a month.

As he halfheartedly listened to Niall’s enthusiastic story about how Marcus’ drum set caught on fire once, Zayn looked at him with glistening eyes, and Louis added details where Niall didn’t, he wondered why it had always been so easy for Zayn to casually blend.  Harry always had to work to make friends ever since he was in high school, because everyone had this weird misconception about him which he never understood, but Zayn had always been good at slipping right in, allowing people to form a social circle around him.  If he could envy _anything_ , it would definitely be that.

Louis suddenly got up in the middle of another one of Niall’s stories, stretching out his arms and yawning like a cat.  He was wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants; a comfortable contrast to the clothing Harry usually saw him in.

“I’m gonna see if you have food,” he announced, before going over to Zayn’s kitchen as though he lived there.  Zayn didn’t seem to mind, which further highlighted the blatant differences between who he was as a person and who _Harry_ was as a person.

Harry probably sat for about thirty more seconds before deciding that sitting in on Zayn and Niall was unbearable, and he made his way to the kitchen as well.  Only because the sight of Niall not realizing that Zayn flattered him _too_ much irritated his soul.

He found Louis with an open jar of peanut butter in one hand as he searched the fridge.

“I knew you’d follow me,” he said casually, eyes still scanning the fridge.  He finally found what he was looking for it seemed, as he pulled a clear container of strawberries out.

“You act like the entire world revolves around you,” Harry replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.  “What if I’m hungry too?”

“Then you weren’t hungry until I was hungry,” Louis said, now looking at him and throwing him a smirk.  The boy’s eyes wandered down Harry’s entire body for a moment, moving with inquisitive interest, before he set the strawberries and peanut butter on the counter.

“I was…um,” Harry started, furrowing his eyebrows and forgetting everything all at once.  “What are you even _eating_ , anyway?”

“Strawberries with peanut butter,” Louis started as he dipped the red fruit into the jar.  “Ever tried it?”

“Why would I ever try something so disgusting?”

“It’s not disgusting, you nitwit,” Louis replied, his attitude immediately flipping.  Harry figured he must’ve been really sensitive about his peanut buttered strawberries.

“It’s healthy to try different things sometimes, you know that right?” Louis asked as he bit into the strawberry, looking Harry in the eye.

“I _do_ try different things, I’m just not keen on having bad taste,” Harry replied with a grin as he watched how much this was getting to Louis.

“It’s _not_ bad!” Louis replied, dipping another strawberry into the peanut butter.  “How can you speak ill of something you’ve never even _tried before_?”

“I don’t have to try it to know it’s disgusting, Louis,” Harry started, chuckling.  He was actually starting to get a kick out of this.  He could sort of see why Louis enjoyed irritating the crap out of people so much.

Louis took a step toward him, strawberry still in hand.  “Wanna say that again?”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked up as he crossed his arms tighter.  He opened his mouth to do just as Louis told, but the words were taken from him when Louis pushed the strawberry into his mouth.  Harry immediately bit down on it out of instinct, even though it caught him by surprise completely.  He honestly did not know Louis was _this_ bold.

He didn’t _actually_ think it would be horribly disgusting, he just enjoyed seeing Louis get all riled up, because that was what _Louis_ usually did to _him._

Harry chewed as he took in the sweet and watery flavor of strawberry, clashing with the smooth peanut butter, and he was so satisfied with the taste that he forgot to scold Louis for _ever_ forcing him to eat _anything._   He had to admit, the peanut butter covered strawberry was pretty good.

Louis’ eyes lit up as he watched him eat it.  “See?”

Harry was brought out of his happy state for a moment, looking at Louis before wiping his mouth with his sleeve.  “Shut up.”  It wasn’t as snappy as he had planned for it to be, because Louis’ grin hadn’t faded even a little.

“You _like_ it,” Louis teased, poking Harry in the arm.  Harry just shrugged him off and made his way past Louis and over to the fridge.

“Maybe I should feed you food more often.  It really shuts you up,” Louis continued as Harry pulled the orange juice out.

He poured himself a glass as Louis continued to giggle and eat strawberries.

“So, what else do you like in your mouth?” Louis asked casually.

Harry almost spit out the juice he had just consumed, because he wasn’t sure if Louis had meant to sound so suggestive or not, and it was kind of hilarious.  He looked down as he swallowed and tried to stifle his laugh.

“What?” Louis asked, giggling as Harry held his mouth.

“Did you not realize how that sounded, or are you just playing dumb?” Harry asked, now looking up with a grin on his face.

“No, I just wanted to know what else you would let me feed you,” Louis replied with a shrug, even though his smirk said it all.

“You’re cute when you laugh,” Louis added, reaching out and completely catching Harry off guard when he poked a finger into his right dimple.  Harry softly held his cheek once Louis’ finger was gone, without a trace of humor left on his face as he stared at the boy.

Harry realized then that Louis looked...better when he laughed too.  For some reason, as Harry just _watched_ him, the features of his face were turning... _soft_.  That was the only way Harry could describe them, and it was odd because Harry was so used to seeing Louis as a cranky demon with a scowl glued to his face.  Louis actually appeared _innocent_ , and he had easy eyes, and—

Harry hadn’t even realized how long he’d been staring at him.

“Okay,” Harry said for absolutely no reason, before turning around and leaving out of the kitchen.

“You’re joining us again?” Zayn asked as Harry took his seat back on the armrest.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, even though his physical body was present, and his mind was not.

 

~*~

 

Harry never thought he would be able to feel like a “third wheel” around Niall and Zayn, because Niall was so incredibly oblivious to all of Zayn’s flirtatious attempts, but somehow, it had begun to feel that way, just because of how Zayn usually tuned Harry out whenever Niall was there.

Harry had become a victim of “third wheeling” Niall and Zayn for several weeks, because every time he wanted to hang with Zayn, Niall was always there.  He didn’t want to tell Zayn not to invite Niall ever again, because Zayn would probably set Harry’s house on fire for even suggesting such a thing.

Another struggle he had to balance was avoiding Louis.  He’d honestly thought doing so would be a breeze, but keeping away from Louis had become more of a chore than anything; it was nearly impossible.  In places where he’d usually gone and never saw Louis, Louis was there; in the parking lot where Harry was exiting one of his lectures and heading toward his car, Louis was there; in the coffee shop after his morning classes, Harry was shocked to find an unexpected surprise: Louis was there.

They never talked much, anyway.  Louis would act like Harry wasn’t there and stroll right past him, but Harry couldn’t do that.  He was sure even _Louis_ had to sense that how often they saw each other was frightening.

Louis had just gotten coffee from the shop Harry _always_ went to and _never_ saw Louis in, and he was exiting just as Harry was entering.  He walked out without even a glance in Harry’s direction, and Harry rolled his eyes before approaching the front counter.

After Harry placed his order, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and went to pull it out.  He had a mini freak out when he realized it was his mother, because he was certain he had probably disappointed her by not calling for a such a long time, but he pushed the panic to the side as he answered it.

“Hello?”

“Harry!  I’ve missed your voice so much!  Why haven’t you called?  I want to hear everything about college!  Are you making friends?” she asked, her words rushed with excitement.

Harry laughed.  “Everything’s fine, mum.”

“Why didn’t you call, Harry?”

“I dunno…” Harry started, placing his left hand in his pocket and looking down at his feet.  “Guess I’m just busy.”

“You can never be too busy to call your own mum,” she replied with a huff.  “Tell me about _everything_.”

“Well, the classes are kinda hard, but I’ll get over it, I have a lot of free time to nap, and Zayn is the only friend I need.”

“So you’re just gonna stick with Zayn all year?” his mother asked, a bit of worry in her tone.  “Well, I trust that boy anyway.  If you’re only gonna have one friend I’d want it to be him.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the way his mother always answered her own questions.  “It’s not like I need a trust circle to join hands with all year,” he said with a sigh.  “I’ll be just fine.”

“Okay,” she replied, letting out an endearing sigh.  “So how is everything with Cecile?”

Harry kicked at nothing on the ground as he held the phone to his ear.  “Everything’s fine.”

It hit him that this was the first time the answer “everything’s fine” when referring to him and Cecile was a complete lie.

He wasn’t miserable enough to do an  outlandish act like break up with her, but things were definitely feeling off.  Ever since that lengthy conversation with his dad concerning his future and whether or not Cecile would be in it, Harry hadn’t been looking at her in quite the same way.  She was still beautiful, funny, and everything Harry remembered that he’d liked when he had first started getting acquainted with her over the summer, but now he was questioning if that was enough.

Once he got his coffee, he chatted with his mum for a few more minutes before she reminded him to call about a hundred times and they said their goodbyes.

He took his coffee with him out of the shop, which he soon realized was a mistake.  Someone hastily bumped into him just as he exited out of the doors, causing scorching hot coffee to spill all across the front and inside of his t-shirt.  He dropped his coffee on the ground as he let out a gasp and pulled his damp shirt away from his body.

“Sorry!” he heard from the person in front of him.

Harry was genuinely confused when he heard the voice, because he was so _certain_ this was Louis he’d bumped into.  He looked up to find that it was in fact, Marcus.

“My bad.  Do you want some napkins or something?” he asked, his face apologetic.

“No, I just…” Harry started, struggling not to grit his teeth.  “I want to go home.  So I’m gonna do that now.”  He started to walk away, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“You want me to buy you another one?  I can totally do that.”

“No, I just wanna get away from you,” Harry replied, wincing a bit at the aftermath of the coffee burn.

Marcus’ features softened as he looked at Harry.  “What’s the matter?”

“The matter is _you_ ,” Harry started, still keeping his voice at a horrifyingly calm tone.  “It’s _you_ , and your goddamn _band_ —it’s like no matter _what_ I do, I just can’t escape you guys.”

Marcus smirked as he looked at him, almost as though the fact that Harry was simultaneously burning and ranting was amusing.

“You’re crazy, man,” Marcus laughed, patting Harry on the shoulder.

“I was only supposed to see you guys at a small concert, and then never again,” Harry said with a sigh.

“That concert was awesome,” Marcus started, beaming as he remembered the event.  “We’re working on booking more venues, though.  We’re gonna practice networking, saving up money to get new equipment…”  His words faded in Harry’s ears as he stood there, going on and on about how hard the band was working to grow and improve.  The fact that Harry clearly resented all of The Red Rogue completely went over Marcus’ head, which wasn’t very surprising.

“But really dude,” Marcus said, bringing Harry’s attention back by placing a firm hand on his shoulder.  “You should lighten up a little.  Stress lines will only mess up that beautiful baby face of yours.”  He pinched Harry’s cheek before turning around and opening the door to the coffee shop in order to let himself in.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've honestly never tried peanut buttered strawberries but yeah it sounded like a cool concept
> 
> *try at your own risk*


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

It was starting to get a little chilly outside, which always caused Harry’s mood to go down because it reminded him that seasons besides spring and summer existed.  He didn’t know _why_ they did, but they did.

He shoved his right hand into the pocket of his jacket as he trudged up the stairs of Cecile’s apartment complex.  In his left hand was a small bouquet of various exotic flowers, which Harry had picked up on the drive there.  She had no idea he was coming, and he couldn’t wait to see how ecstatic she would be that Harry showed up and surprised her.

Once he reached her door, he knocked four times before lowering his fist.  Cecile always took a while to answer the door; Harry knew how much effort it took for her to rise from a comfortable position on the couch.

He could hear talking on the other side of the door, and he let out a small sigh, because he already recognized those familiar voices.  Her friends were over.

When Cecile opened the door and laid eyes on him, she shrieked before stepping forward and crushing him in a tight hug.  Harry took all of it in, wrapping his arms around her waist as she buried her smile into his shoulder.

Once they pulled back from the hug, Harry held the small bouquet out toward her.  “Surprise!” Harry said with a smile.

“Oh my god is that Harry?” he heard one of her friends ask, almost critically.  Harry shrugged her off as he made his way inside.

“I had no idea he was coming,” Cecile said with a bright smile as she held the flowers.  “He’s so sweet, isn’t he?”

Her three friends who Harry remembered as Nudara, Renae, and Tricia, all cooed and gushed over how they wished their boyfriends would bring them flowers, or how they wished they even had boyfriends.

Harry greeted them, even though he wished they hadn’t been there so that he could spend alone time with Cecile.

He ended up having to sit there while they talked and talked about a bunch of things Harry knew nothing about.  There was apparently so much juicy gossip that needed to be discussed, but somehow the subject changed from a popular love triangle on campus to Cecile and Harry.

As Cecile curled into his side and answered all of their eager questions about how they met, Harry could tell how proud Cecile was to have him.  She seemed so happy to show him off and Harry could very much understand why her friends were highly infatuated with their relationship.  It was just another instance of things being seemingly perfect along the surface.

“He used to play croquet,” Cecile added with a proud grin, nudging Harry.

Harry scrunched up his nose as he settled his head on his fist.  “That was for like, six months.”

“But you still played,” she said with a giggle, nudging him again.

“So you’re an athlete?” Renae asked.

“Croquet was so incredibly boring that I don’t even think it qualifies as a sport.”

“Oh, shut up,” Cecile laughed.  “He could also be on the footie team if he tried.”

Harry turned his resting head slightly in Cecile’s direction, giving her a pointed look.  She was absolutely beaming, soaking up this wonderful opportunity to brag about her perfect boyfriend.

“Just because I’ve beat you in one game of footie doesn’t mean I’m even remotely skilled,” Harry said with a laugh.  “It’s so easy to beat you.”

“Stop trying to make excuses,” Cecile replied, swatting his arm.  “You have the potential to be great at things—so many things.  You just don’t try much.”

He gave up on trying to counter all of Cecile’s compliments, because it was obvious she was more than enthusiastic about letting her friends think Harry was the dream boyfriend they all wished for.

He sat a bit impatiently as Cecile continued to converse with her overly cheery friends, occasionally pulling Harry into the conversation with a “Isn’t that right, babe?” or “Remember?”

When the party moved into Cecile’s bedroom once her friends demanded she show them the new stuff she went shopping for recently, Harry really wished he had called before coming.  Never again would he spontaneously surprise this girl.

He found himself in the bathroom as Cecile continued to have the time of her life with all her friends.  Surprisingly, they hadn’t grown worried about how long Harry had been in the bathroom, just sitting on the floor with his back against the door.  He just needed an immediate break from it all—a change of scenery.  It seemed like Cecile was more interested in impressing her friends than embracing the fact that Harry was actual _there_ and chose to come instead of taking a nap in the comfort of his flat.

He eventually pulled his phone out of his pocket, browsing through it in need of anything to occupy himself with.  He ended up dialing Zayn’s number and holding the phone up to his ear, intent on having someone to whine to.

As it rang, he let out a sigh and allowed his head to fall back and hit the bathroom door.

“Please answer,” Harry moaned.

The silence of the bathroom was quite relieving at first, but now it was just growing intrusive, forcing Harry to reflect on and analyze everything that was going on at the moment.

As much as he wanted to act like he was only at Cecile’s because he very much adored her and remembered how she always complained about him never visiting, he also knew that coming here would fully prevent him from running into Louis.  He hated to admit anything to be true concerning the whole soulmate brouhaha, but one thing was constantly being proven; it was nearly impossible to not encounter Louis on any regular day.

He still found it strange how Louis hadn’t begun to act weird about it or even acknowledge that he was seeing Harry everywhere.  Usually, he just ignored it, giving Harry a side eye as he continued whatever he was up to.  Harry figured that was for the best, anyway.

After Zayn didn’t pick up his call the first time, Harry went to call him again, refusing to be ignored.  Zayn picked up after two rings, and there were a bunch of busy noises on his side of the line.

“I’m at an art club meeting,” Zayn said upon finally speaking.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.  “Art club?  Since when are you in _art club_?”

“As of recently,” Zayn replied easily, and it did indeed sound like he was occupied with something.  “I’ll call you back later, ‘kay?”

Harry shrugged before letting out a huff.  “You don’t have to.  I’m not really calling for a particular reason, anyway.”

“Wow, you must be really bored,” Zayn said, followed by a short chuckle.  He signed off before hanging up, leaving Harry alone yet again with his busy mind encompassing the shiny white bathroom.  Cecile kept her bathroom unusually clean.

He knew Zayn had quite the artistic abilities, but he didn’t think he would ever actually venture out into the art community.  It made something twist inside of Harry that he couldn’t really identify.

Before Harry could stress himself out for no reason, he unlocked his phone again, scrolling through his contacts to see if there was anyone else he could bother about nothing.  He used his finger to stop on the contact that read “Thomas (Dad)”, before tapping it and bringing his phone back to his ear.

He was sure this was a foolproof way to keep himself occupied.  Harry had spent so much time away from his father when he was living with his mum that now, his dad wouldn’t ever refuse him his attention.  It was smothering at times, but mostly endearing.  His dad could’ve easily been furious with him for going to live with his mum, but instead he welcomed Harry with open arms and put him and Gemma first in everything, so Harry was quite thankful for that.  He honestly didn’t know what his dad would do with himself if he didn’t have Harry as a son.  That would probably suck a bunch.

“Hello?” his dad answered, causing one side of Harry’s lips to quirk up.  “Harry?”

“It’s me,” Harry replied, raising his eyebrows momentarily.

“Yeah, um…” he started, and if Harry didn’t know better, he would’ve guessed he was at an art club meeting, because the ruckus on his side of the line was overbearing.

“I’m a little busy right now,” his dad continued, his tone apologetic.  “Would you wanna talk at another time?”

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together as his lips formed a tiny little pout.  “You’re _busy_?”

“Yeah, sorry,” his dad replied.  “I’ll call you later, H.”

The line went flat, and Harry was sat there with the phone still pressed against his ear and a confused expression on his face.

That was…unusual.  It also didn’t make any sense, because Harry couldn’t remember a time when his own father was too busy to talk to him.  It threatened to cause a tear in Harry’s heart, but he kept his composure as he went to dial Gemma’s number.  He had even more to complain about now.

He heard the chatter of the girls on the other side of the door as he brought the phone to his ear again.  Not once did they pause for a moment to breathe.  Harry couldn’t imagine talking to someone so much, let alone a group of people.

“Uh huh?” Gemma said upon answering.  She sounded neutral, and there wasn’t a constant shuffling noise in the background of her line, so Harry took it as a good sign.

“ _Hi_ ,” Harry replied in a singsong tone, a smile growing on his face like a child.

She sighed.  “What do you want from me?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his previously brightened mood immediately deflated.  “Why do I have to need something from you to call you?  You’re my _sister_ , Gems.”

There was a moment of silence, but Harry knew she was still there due to the sound of her breathing.  “So…you’re calling me just to talk to me?”

“Well, I’m at Cecile’s, and she’s been talking with her friends for the last hour, so I’ve locked myself in the bathroom and I’m trying to occupy myself,” Harry explained.

“Ah,” Gemma replied.  “ _That_ sounds more like you.”

Harry hummed in response.

“Well, since you’re not asking me for anything, I think this is a good time to ask _you_ for something,” Gemma continued.

Harry rolled his eyes as he brought his knees up to his chest.  “Ask away.”

“Okay, so,” she started, and Harry closed his eyes, because he already knew this was going to be a long one.

“I asked mum if she could send me some money because I used all my rent money on clothes—because I don’t have _any_ clothes, and I told her this before but she didn’t listen—“

Harry let his head hit the bathroom door another time.

“And so I asked her for rent money and she said _no_ , Harry.”  She spoke as though she was shocked, in disbelief and waiting for Harry to agree with how absurd it was.

“Gemma, you have clothes,” Harry said boredly.

“No, I grow out of all of them too fast!” she replied.  “Anyway, I literally asked dad for money last week and I ask him too much, so can you ask him for me?”

Harry lolled his head to the side, eyes still closed.  “You are so…”

“ _Harry_ , I’m asking this as your dearest, sweetest sister.  I’m also older than you, so you have to listen to me.”

“I’m eighteen, okay,” Harry replied.  “Since we’re both adults, the rule doesn’t apply anymore.”

“You literally just made that up.”

Harry started making static sounds into the speaker of his phone.  “I think you’re—cchhh—breaking up—cchh—I have to—“ he started before pressing the “end call” button.  He knew he would get hell for that later, but for now he’d had enough.

Harry moved to get up from the bathroom floor, putting all his weight on the palms of his hands as he shifted, when he heard his name.  He hadn’t even realized how hushed the girls’ voices had gotten.  He paused his movements in order to hear whatever they were saying more clearly.

“So, you guys really haven’t yet?” he heard Nudara ask.

“No, he uh…” he heard Cecile start.  “I don’t think Harry wants that.  Or maybe he’s nervous?  I don’t know.  I drop hints sometimes.”

He immediately knew what they were talking about after that sentence, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to enter back into her bedroom and walk in on such a subject of conversation.  He sunk back down on the floor, taking his former position resting against the door.

He was aware that Cecile dropped hints sometimes.  He was actually thankful that she was decent enough not to drop hints that she wanted to have sex with Harry every day.  The hints were usually dropped very subtly, like when Cecile would emphasize the fact that they were “all alone” or when she would complain about being bored while laying on Harry’s chest and looking at him suggestively.

The problem wasn’t _Cecile_ , per se, but more the overall pressure of sex and how it had always been put on the ultimate pedestal.  He kind of found it slightly offensive that Cecile assumed it was because he was nervous.  He _wasn’t_ nervous.  He just…didn’t think about that kind of stuff.  Never found the importance in it.  Maybe.

He genuinely couldn’t pinpoint the _exact_ reason why.

He still couldn’t for the life of him figure out _why_ the topic of their sex life (or lack thereof) was even of interest.  Was it shameful that they hadn’t gone farther than having little kissing sessions from time to time?  Harry never even allowed his hands to wander whenever he touched Cecile—he _always_ wanted to respect her.

He decided that maybe he should quiet his mind in order to hear whatever else they were talking about.  It seemed he started listening again at the perfect moment, because what he heard next caused his skin to flush.

“Do you think he’s a virgin?” one of her friends (Harry couldn’t identify which) asked.  Cecile laughed in response, and Harry had no idea of how he was supposed to interpret that.  He didn’t know if they were making fun of him, or if they were making fun of Cecile; if it was laughable that Harry had never tried anything on her—Harry just didn’t _know_ , and he hated being in the dark about things.

He couldn’t bear one more second of it—didn’t even like the idea of them talking about it, so he pushed himself up to his feet before twisting the door knob to the bathroom.

All four heads shot to his direction, dumbfounded and clearly caught off guard.  Harry lifted his phone up in the air.

“Was making a phone call,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” Cecile replied, followed by a giggle.  “You didn’t miss anything anyway.”

Harry offered her a tiny, lifeless grin.

Cecile perked up, patting the space next to her on her crowded bed.  “Come, sit!”

 

~*~

 

“Why does it have to be the Taco Bell seasoning mix though?” Harry asked as he held his phone up to his ear.

He heard Zayn sigh exhaustedly on the other side.  “It’s the only one I trust.  Just get it!”

Harry reached up to grab three packs of Taco Bell seasoning mix from the aisle.  It was Zayn’s idea that they have a “Taco Night”, which had made Harry cringe at first, but eventually he was on board.  The idea of homemade tacos didn’t seem _that_ unappealing.  He just didn’t know he would end up having to be the one to get all the ingredients while Zayn crashed on his couch and yelled at him about what to buy through the phone.

“You know Taco Bell isn’t authentic Mexican cuisine, right?” Harry asked as he tossed the packs in the basket he was holding.

“I’m not dumb,” Zayn replied, before letting out a hesitant chuckle.

Harry narrowed his eyes as he wondered down the aisle.  “What’re you laughing at?  Is _Niall_ there?  Zayn I swear to—“

“No, _no_ ,” Zayn interjected, now laughing a bit more loosely.  “I just got a funny text from him, is all.  You already forced me not to invite him.  I get it.”

“Good,” Harry replied.  “Now I’m gonna hang up so you can text your Irish buddy in peace.”

“Yeah…” Zayn mumbled, and it was clear he wasn’t even listening anymore, eyes probably glued to his screen as he typed out a response to whatever hilarious thing Niall had said.

Harry hung up and shoved his phone in his back pocket as he waltzed into the exact aisle he was looking for.

Harry scanned his eyes over the different cases containing bottles of sparkling water.  He’d been searching for a while now at the supermarket, and he couldn’t find the specific kind of sparkling water he’d always gotten.

This was one of the many reasons he hated actually going out and physically buying things.  He always preferred online shopping and ordering, because it didn’t require tediously walking up and down gigantic aisles, avoiding eye contact with strangers, and having to haul items into his car.

He waltzed down the aisle with all the fancy bottled drinks, wines, and such, searching to find a very specific case of sparkling water— _no_ other brand would do—although it seemed like he wasn’t going to find any luck.

He had just reached the end of the aisle when he made a double take at another stranger within a ten feet radius.  The supermarket was unusually quiet and calm that night, so it startled him to find that someone else was also there.

Harry peered around the corner of the aisle he was in, finding none other than the one and only Louis Tomlinson that he could never escape (he’d encountered the boy so much he now knew his fucking last _name_ ).  He was wearing a gray hoodie and trackies, standing toward the front at one of the counters and signing some sheet of paper.

Harry entered back into the aisle that he had peered from, because it was bad enough that he had to see Louis; he didn’t want the boy to see him too.  Harry crossed his arms and let out a sigh as he stood, trying not to count how many days in a row he had seen at least a glimpse of Louis.

Why the _hell_ was he there?

Harry rubbed a hand down his face, pausing to cup his fingers under his chin, thinking of his next plan of action.  He _really_ did not want to run into Louis.  In fact, one of the reasons he didn’t immediately hiss at Zayn for making him go to farthest supermarket in the middle of the goddamn _night_ was because he was sure he wouldn’t run into Louis this way.  Harry was almost certain there were only two customers in the supermarket at the moment: him and Louis.

As Harry was trying to figure out what his next move would be, his eyes settled on a case of sparkling water at the very top of the aisle.  He smacked his teeth as he got on the tips of his toes to reach it.  If he would’ve found it sooner instead of lollygagging, he probably would’ve been out of here by now.

He grabbed two cases and placed them in his basket before walking to the extreme other side of the aisle and making his way towards the registers from there.

It wasn’t a surprise when he found that Louis was now at a register, stood in front of one of the employees and discussing something quietly. He twiddled his thumbs as he spoke and he was nearly on his tippy toes just so he could rest his elbows on the countertop by the cashier.  There were three other employees at their registers as well, looking bored and tired due to a lack of customers.  Harry thought for a moment that maybe he could get away with getting his items scanned and leaving without having Louis see him, but Louis’ head shifted his way, and it became clear that they were aware of each other’s presence.  Harry had no idea why he didn’t immediately look away.

He also had no idea why he took the register right next to the one Louis was at, or why he started talking to him as he set the groceries on the counter.

The female employee he was speaking to just a few seconds before had gone away to seemingly fetch something for him.  Louis was standing there alone now, studying his fingers as though they’d suddenly become interesting.

“Hi,” Harry said hesitantly as he waited for the guy in front of him to scan everything.

Louis turned to him momentarily before shifting his eyes back down.  “Hey.”

“What brings you here on this…dark and uh, slightly cold night?” Harry asked, and _Jesus_ why was he being so awkward?  Louis’ lips tilted upward on one side though, so Harry couldn’t have been that embarrassing.

The girl he had been talking to came walking back at that moment, handing Louis a folder containing some sheets of paper Harry knew nothing about.  Harry swiped his black card as Louis mumbled a “thank you” to the girl and turned to Harry.

“Some people actually have to apply for jobs, contrary to your belief,” Louis replied, before making his way toward the exit.

Harry took his bags and receipt from the guy in front of him before following behind Louis.

“I know that applying for jobs is a thing,” Harry said, trying to keep his tone non-hostile.

Louis pushed open the exit door and didn’t even spare a few seconds to hold it for Harry, which wasn’t shocking.

Harry let out a huff as he pushed through the door, hauling two bags full of groceries that he was now starting to regret purchasing.  The cold air hit his face and his miserable state grew even worse.

“I just didn’t think you’d know,” Louis started, turning around to face Harry and continuing to walk backwards.  “Considering you’ve probably never worked for anything a day in your life.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he caught up to Louis, now walking alongside him.  “And since _when_ do you have extensive knowledge of my life?”

“I don’t have to have extensive knowledge,” Louis replied with a shrug.  He slid one hand in the pocket of his trackies as he dragged his feet.  “You have a rich dad.  It’s that simple.”

Harry contemplated correcting him for a moment, because it always annoyed him when people pointed out his dad having money, but not his mum.  His mum made just about as much as his dad, but whenever people tried to criticize him for not coming from a financial struggle, they always mention how “rich” his dad was.

Harry let that thought stay back for a moment, because there was another more annoying subject to tackle.

“I’m not…like that,” Harry said, his voice low.

“Sure, Harry,” Louis started as he pulled his car keys out of his pocket.  He approached his old looking, navy blue sedan and twisted the key to open it, but Harry stood exactly where he was.

There was nothing he hated more than people forming opinions about him based off of a few insignificant factors.

“I’m _not_ ,” Harry insisted, even as Louis got in his car, starting it up and everything.  Harry thought for a second that he was going to just drive away like he did that night at the party, but instead he actually rolled the window down, blinking his eyes at Harry.   It only made Harry remember he had unusually long eyelashes that literally casted shadows on his face.

Harry bent down so that he could be at level with Louis.

“Do you really think I’m like that?” Harry asked, his eyes genuine as he folded his arms over the windowsill.

“A spoiled, whiny, selfish boy that will never know what a hardship is if it slaps him in the face?” Louis asked.  “Yep.”

Harry set the suddenly very heavy bags on the concrete of the parking lot beneath him, before squatting in front of Louis’ car door.  He was really doing this.  In the dead of the dark and slightly cold night, on the verge of shivering, choosing to campaign to Louis about how he was actually a sincere and likeable person.

“I’m not the average ‘rich kid’ or _whatever_ you’re trying to paint me as,” Harry started, ignoring Louis’ bored expression.  “I’m genuine and I’m real, okay?”

A little sound escaped Louis’ lips that sounded like sort of a stifled laugh, but Harry went on.

“I don’t want you to write me off before ever really getting to know me, just because of some stupid stereotype.”

Things like this _really_ infuriated Harry.  He hated when people stereotyped him as the “rich kid”; the boy who only cared about material things, made friendships with other people that had money as well, plastic and void of actual human compassion or feelings.  Harry was _none_ of those things, and he despised the fact that anyone even thought this way about him.  Sure, he wasn’t enthusiastic about too many things, and performed many tasks halfheartedly, but that was because he was a lazy, introverted person at heart.  _Anyone_ could be lazy—Louis was even guilty of that character trait himself, judging by how he didn’t even try to help his band mates carry the equipment into Harry’s apartment that one day, which he still remembered.  He didn’t know why he still remembered.

“Look, I hear what you’re saying, Harry,” Louis started, nodding his head.  “But at the end of the day, the reality will always be true.  People have to bust their asses everyday just to get by, and you’ll never know how that feels, which doesn’t sit very well with me.”

Before Harry could even say anything else, Louis was rolling his window up, nearly slicing Harry’s arms in the process.  Harry stood there dumbly as he watched Louis’ car back away yet again, before veering off into the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you think louis is right? obviously harry is spoiled, but is he really the typical bratty rich kid that louis is complaining about, and he just doesn't know it?
> 
> next update tuesday *blows kiss*


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> larry finally rises

 

 

Harry nearly had a heart attack when he was jolted awake from a calming sleep.  He was almost certain he had been dreaming about bunnies and clouds because it was truly a deep, tranquil experience.

That was until he was woken up, of course.

Stiff hands eagerly shook his shoulders, knocking the sleep out of him and succeeding in alarming him.  He had no roommate, so that already gave him one reason to be severely taken aback at what was going on.

His eyes shot open and he was met with a pair of blue eyes, which surprisingly, weren’t Louis’.

The first thing that went through his mind was how he _really_ needed to start remembering to lock his door.

“ _Fuck_ ,” was what came out of Harry’s mouth as soon as he was shaken awake and scared to death.  Niall stared back at him with indifference, as though breaking into Harry’s house and frightening the daylights out of him was a normal thing they did.

“Hi,” Niall replied with a grin.  It seemed that he was content that Harry was now awake, so he shrugged his shoulder and made his way elsewhere, looking around Harry’s room.  What was _up_ with these Red Rogue guys thinking they had free access to everything?

Harry rubbed his sleepy eyes and tried not to let his hands form a fist.

“Why are you _here_?” Harry asked as Niall went over to the door by his balcony.

He slid open the glass door, allowing the gentle breeze to slowly enter Harry’s flat.

“I thought Zayn would be here, but then he texted me that he had class, and I was already _here_ , so…” Niall started, now turning around to flash Harry a smile.  “I’m here.”

Harry let out a yawn as he sat up in his bed.  It was definitely far too early for this kind of foolishness.

Niall came back over and flopped down on Harry’s bed.

“Why would you think Zayn was here?” Harry asked, his voice still weak and full of sleep.

Niall shrugged as he ran his eyes over the patterns on Harry’s duvet.  “If he’s not at his place, he’s usually here.”

“Was seeing him so important that you just _had_ to come over here to check?”

Niall shrugged again, and Harry was already starting to grow tired of his shrugs.  He seemed to be so eager, yet so nonchalant about everything.  Harry had no idea how he managed to pull it off.

“I dunno.  I like seeing him.  He’s cool,” Niall replied, followed by another grin as he looked back up at Harry.  He raised his finger as an afterthought.  “You should remember to lock your front door, though.”

Harry pursed his lips in annoyance as he pushed himself down from his bed, shuffling his feet across the floor and intent on not lingering on the fact that Niall was _there_ and he had _broken into his flat_ (even though he didn’t really).

“You should show me how to use the fruit squeezer thingy in the kitchen,” he heard Niall say as the boy followed behind.

Harry sighed as he scratched his scalp and made his way into the kitchen.  “It’s called a juice extractor.”

The blonde boy leaned his arm on Harry’s counter as he shrugged.  “Whatever mate.  I’m just starving.”

Harry scrunched his nose as he opened the door to his fridge.  “For freshly squeezed _juice_?”

“Yeah, why not.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he went over to the basket of fruits he kept but never touched.  He realized now that he should’ve purchased the fruit baskets with the plastic fruit in them, because they do make rather good decoration.

“How much was this thing anyway?” Niall asked as he observed the silver juice extractor set on the counter.

“A little under two thousand,” Harry replied, grabbing an orange from the basket.  He ignored the way Niall’s jaw was practically rested on the floor as he handed the orange to him.  He still couldn’t figure out what could’ve possibly been so appealing about juicing fruits, but if Niall wanted to do it so bad, Harry would leave him to it.

“I’ve never used it, so,” Harry started, clasping his hands together.  “Yeah.”

Niall blinked at him for a second with big, curious eyes, before he broke down in laughter—almost _hysterical_ laughter at the sole fact that Harry had never used his juice machine before.

“You’re so funny, Harry,” Niall said.

Harry’s plan had originally been to leave Niall to it and hope it didn’t spontaneously catch on fire, but after watching the boy fail at even getting the plug in the socket correctly, Harry decided he couldn’t sit back and watch.

The juice extractor turned out to be rather complex, to Harry’s surprise.  There were so many different buttons and options, and what the heck did ‘Continuous Pulp Ejection’ even _mean_?

Harry eventually gave up on trying when he snapped the cup out of its place on the extractor and accidentally sent tons of orange juice flying in Niall’s direction, staining the long sleeved graphic tee he was wearing.  Of course, Niall’s reaction to that was to start laughing again.

“Shit, my bad,” Harry apologized as he attempted to wipe the stains off of Niall’s shirt with a paper towel.  “I can get you another shirt if you want?”

“No—it’s fine.  I can live with an orange juice stain on my shirt,” Niall replied, his facial features calm and easy.

Harry _did_ have a supply of plain t-shirts he never touched, so he didn’t have a problem giving them away.

“Nope, I’ll get you a shirt,” Harry insisted, ignoring Niall as he made his way back to his bedroom.

Even though Niall _was_ annoying, just like the rest of his posse, he was somewhat more bearable than the rest.  Even if he was a bit irritating, it was easy to tell he wasn’t trying to be.  It was almost endearing, the way he laughed all the time and had this sort of bubbly energy within him that never seemed to die down.  He wasn’t horrible.

Harry went into his closet and over to the corner stacked with neatly folded clothes that he always said he would eventually wear, but never got around to.  He plucked a white v-neck t-shirt out for Niall, before going back through his bathroom and into his bedroom.

Niall was sitting on Harry’s bed scrolling through his phone, and he looked up as soon as Harry came through the bathroom threshold.

“You really didn’t have to—“

“I _am_ , so deal with it,” Harry replied with a grin as he held the shirt out for Niall.  Niall accepted it with red cheeks before pulling his own shirt off.

And Harry was just about to turn around and leave Niall to himself, before a faint—slight, _unclear—_ figure on Niall’s elbow caught Harry’s attention out of the corner of his eye, causing him to inhale a sharp breath and pray his eyes were playing tricks on him.

_No._

What almost made Harry’s heart stop wasn’t the fact that Niall was taking his shirt off—Harry _respected_ Zayn and would _never_ allow himself to think that way about Niall; it was the fact that this stupid, annoying, _soulmate_ thing wouldn’t leave him alone for even a day.

Harry walked back toward Niall, one finger lingering in the air.

“What’s that on your elbow?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Niall slowed down his process of putting on the shirt Harry gave him as he twisted his face in confusion.  He looked down at his elbow, stroking his fingers over the print that was definitely what Harry thought it was.  In broad daylight.  Right before Harry’s eyes.  The tattoo that Zayn, who Harry had known for many years now, had on his elbow as well.  Harry had always envied Zayn because of how small and nearly unnoticeable his tattoo was, and here Harry was, having to face that jealousy head-on, because he’d seen Niall many times before and hadn’t even laid eyes on it.  It was almost as though it’d never appeared and suddenly it was just _there_ , out of nowhere.

“Oh, this?” Niall asked, looking down at it.  “It’s my tattoo—or my mark, or whatever the fuck people call it.”  He tore his eyes away from it before looking back up at Harry indifferently.  “What about it?”

Harry crossed his arms as he looked down at his feet, debating on whether he should say something or not.  He didn’t know _how_ to say it.  It would feel like complete gibberish coming out of his mouth, because there was no way any of this was real—it _couldn’t_ be real.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Niall asked.

“No, um…” Harry started, biting down on his bottom lip as he took a step back.

It was like everything he’d ever known was being proved wrong, slowly, gradually.  Harry never claimed to be a know-it-all, but he definitely hated being wrong— _especially_ about things like this.  He couldn’t ignore the fact that now that this was in his face, clear as day, he had to analyze and think about other concepts and potential realities that he _didn’t_ want to think about.  God, he _didn’t_ want to do this.  At all.

“What?  Do you have it too?” Niall asked, his voice now more hushed than Harry’d ever heard it.  He sat up on Harry’s bed a little as he stared at him with big eyes.

Harry quickly shook his head.  “ _No_.”

“Then just spit it out, Harry,” Niall said.  His voice was getting a little more impatient, and Harry didn’t know he even had this kind of irritability inside of him.

Did he not know Zayn had it?  Harry was pretty certain Zayn didn’t know that Niall had it, because he would’ve gotten a call that consisted of Zayn screaming his ear off and announcing that he was ready to elope.

“I’m not getting any closer to see, but if that’s a tiny skull, with some flowery shit around it, then yeah,” Harry started, letting out a deep sigh as he brought his eyes back up to meet Niall’s.  “Zayn has it.”

Harry would’ve thought Niall was an animated character with how greatly his eyes widened.  He slowly rose up from where he was sat on Harry’s bed, placing his hands on either of the boy’s shoulders.

His tone was low and hushed as he spoke to Harry, as though cautious this could all blow up in any second.  “Are you serious?”

He was way too close for Harry’s liking.

Harry just nodded in response, completely lacking anything else to say.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Niall literally started _leaping around_ , a smile wide on his face as he chanted “Yes, yes _yes!”_

It was Harry’s turn to widen his eyes as he watched Niall hop around the bedroom.

What in the _fuck_ was happening?  Had Harry entered the Twilight Zone or something?

“Oh my _god!_ ” Niall exclaimed excitedly as he shook Harry’s shoulders.  His face was beaming with happiness, as though he’d won a prize at a charity fair.

Harry wanted to open his mouth and ask a long string of never ending questions, starting with “So, you actually like Zayn?” and ending with “You _actually_ believe in this soulmates shit?”

Instead, he just let Niall’s victory chant play out until it was over, and the boy was sitting back down on Harry’s bed, pumped full of energy.  He was smiling so hard that Harry had no doubt his face would get stuck that way.

“Woah,” Niall said, his eyes not focused on Harry anymore.  “Holy shit.”

Harry just stood silent, his arms still crossed as he rested his back against the wall and tried to ignore the panicked feeling in his chest.

Niall’s smile slowly faded as he continued to stare at nothing, and it started to look like he was in deep thought.  Regardless of what was going on within Niall’s busy brain, Harry was going to stand there in silence until he said something.

“I mean, I kinda knew…” Niall said, his voice quiet.

“How?” Harry asked.

“I just…” Niall started, now looking down at his hands.  “When I first saw him at our gig, it was like all the other faces in the crowd blurred out.  At first I thought it was just because he was so fucking hot—“

“Wait,” Harry interrupted, shaking his head.  “You’re attracted to him?  You _like_ him?”

Niall brought his face back up to meet Harry’s eyes, before his lips quirked up in sort of a shy fashion that Harry had never seen on him.  “Yeah.”

“Niall, _Jesus_ ,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his curls.  “You’re telling me you’ve liked him from the moment you first saw him, but you haven’t even told him or _hinted_ at it?”

Niall nodded.  “Yeah.  Right away I knew he was special.  When he was screaming those Pink Floyd lyrics at me, I couldn’t move my eyes anywhere else.  He’s beautiful, really.  I was almost intimidated by him.”

Harry bit back a laugh at that one, because yes, Zayn was conventionally attractive in ways that weren’t fair at _all_ , but he couldn’t ever picture himself being intimidated by him after getting to know him.

As Niall went on about how easily conversation flowed between them, how funny Zayn was, how this feeling of comfort and warmth washed over him whenever Zayn was around, Harry could barely even register the words he was hearing through his ears.  Zayn had been running _wild_ these past few weeks, just trying to get Niall to even look at him that way, and here Niall was, pouring his heart out about Zayn and pointing out things Harry didn’t even notice about him, like the “cute little freckle in his left eye”.

Again, what the _fuck_?

Harry was just sitting back quietly, struggling to take everything in that Niall was saying and trying not to completely lose his mind.  He was intent on not indulging in any of this sappy shit that Niall was saying, but he _had_ to interject when Niall said his next few words.

“I don’t know if he likes me, though.”

Harry blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out how one could be so clueless about blatant going-ons surrounding them.  Niall must’ve had a lot of overly nice people in his life if he thought all this extra attention Zayn was giving him was common.

“Zayn _likes_ you,” Harry said sternly.  “He likes you so much I think he’s going to explode.  Seriously, how could you not know that?”

Niall’s eyes were so deliciously bright as he looked up at Harry.  “He likes me?  Like…in _that_ way?”

He didn’t even understand why Niall was questioning whether Zayn liked him or not.  If they’re soulmates, wouldn’t he just _know_ Zayn liked him?  Wouldn’t he feel it deep within his soul or some shit like that?

“If you mean the marriage way, the having kids way, and the buying a house together way, then yes,” Harry said with a nod of his head.  “He has already planned for your future.”

Niall laughed a bit, soft and easy.  “So he likes me.  Zayn actually likes me.”

Harry stressfully rubbed his fingers over his forehead.

 

~*~

 

Harry had just taken a nap that went on for longer than planned when he found himself power walking to a lecture he was supposed to be at ten minutes ago.  He mentally acknowledged the fact that he needed to start being cautious of when and where he fell asleep.  He’d accidentally closed his eyes, dozing off on top of one of the benches under the student park pavilion, and he woke up with a mosquito bite on his neck that itched like crazy.

Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one that entered class late, so he didn’t have to deal with how personally harsh the professor always got when a single student was tardy.

He pulled up his chair next to Zayn, and of course the boy was already looking down at his phone, grinning at the screen like a sneaky high school student.

“You should’ve called me and woke me up,” Harry whined as he let his head rest on the tabletop.

“I did.  Like, four times,” Zayn replied, peeling his eyes away from his phone to look at Harry.

Harry stared back at him, trying to find any hint of something… _different_ in his facial expression.  He looked like the same gushy boy who was absolutely flustered by some simple text messages from a certain blonde boy.

“So,” Harry said, now sitting up and letting the lecture fade into the background.   “Are you…has….” he started, not quite knowing how to voice his question.  Zayn quirked up his eyebrows in anticipation of whatever he was going to say.

“Has Niall told you anything important lately?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Zayn pursed his lips as he shook his head.  “I mean, his dog back at home had puppies, but—“

“No,” Harry interrupted, shaking his head.  “Something _really_ important.  That will change everything.”

Zayn bit his bottom lip.  “No, not really.  Why?”

Harry quickly shrugged his shoulders as he moved to pull his notebook out of his bag.  “No reason.  Just curious about you guys.”

“…okay,” Zayn replied, setting his phone on top of the table.

“You know,” Harry started, opening up his textbook.  “Niall’s not that bad.  He’s really not.”

“I think I know that,” Zayn replied.

Harry decided that since Zayn didn’t know about it already, he should let him find out on his own.  It would be much more extravagant and intimate then, even though Zayn would probably kill him when he found out Harry knew all along.

 

~*~

 

The days were getting shorter and the temperature outside was getting chillier, so Harry was starting to grow less keen on taking long walks to his car in order to get to different places.  The food in the school café wasn’t bad, but he always opted to go out and grab something to eat rather than staying on campus.

Today, however, it was a particularly chilly day, and Harry decided he would rather endure the food in the café than shiver outside in order to get to his car.

After he picked up the unlikely combination of salad, some fries, and a fruit parfait from the lunch buffet that was offered, he was perfectly fine with finding some empty table to sit down and consume his lunch at.  Harry was aware that normally, people would be miserable eating alone, but he genuinely didn’t care.  The only thing that truly mattered was getting food into his system since he hadn’t even eaten breakfast.

Despite being intent on going over to the empty table he spotted in the distance, he made the mistake of turning his head when he heard someone call his name.  Just another thing to add to the list: do _not_ turn your head when people call your name.

Once he looked to see who it was that had shouted his name, it was too late to turn away when he met eyes with Marcus, who had his hand raised high in the air, gesturing for Harry to come over.  He was sat with the usual members—Niall, Louis, and Liam (who had some other girl Harry didn’t know snuggled into his side).

Harry bit his bottom lip as he moved his feet in the direction of the round table they were sitting at.  They weren’t even all eating café food; it looked like they’d gone out for some subs and gyros and came _back_ to sit in this exact spot in the cafeteria.  Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the fact that they genuinely desired to eat where everybody would see them.

“What’s up?” Marcus asked once he approached their table.

“I’m just trying to eat,” Harry replied, gesturing at the plate in his hand.

“Why don’t you join us?” Liam offered, tilting his head toward the empty seat next to Louis.

Harry pursed his lips, not even attempting to protest as he made his way around the table and sat in the only vacant seat.  There was no use in fighting it; he hadn’t seen Louis even once that day, so he was _going_ to run into him at some point.  Might as well get it over with.

“We were just talking about this gig we booked for New Year’s Eve.  It’s gonna be huge!” Niall exclaimed, and even though he was usually happy, he seemed especially ecstatic right now, and Harry knew it wasn’t only because of the gig.  For some reason though, he knew that Niall still hadn’t told Zayn, and he wondered why.

“New Year’s Eve?  Is it at Times Square or something?” Harry asked, to which they all—every single one of them—started laughing.

Harry chuckled a bit too, as if he understood what was funny.

“We could never book Times Square,” Louis mumbled, playing with the sleeves of the jacket he was wearing.

“ _Hey,_ none of that negativity,” Liam said, pointing a stern finger at Louis.  “We will someday.  We just have to be patient.”  The girl that was sitting next to him told him something quietly in his ear, causing him to laugh all gentle and puppy-like.  Harry wondered if she was his girlfriend.

Louis seemed like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and slumped in his chair.

It never failed to astound Harry, how whenever he and Louis were in each other’s presence, Louis was the only thing he could really just _focus_ on; he would keep track of him until they were out of each other’s vicinity, but it seemed like for Louis, he could care less about watching Harry for what he was doing or even sparing a glance in his direction.  It was as though everything was one-sided.

“It’s just funny because we haven’t even managed to book gigs that aren’t local, let alone _Times Square,_ ” Marcus said, his tone making it sound ridiculous.  “That would sure be a dream come true, though.”

“Well, why don’t you guys try stepping it up a notch, then?” Harry asked.  They all (except Louis, whose phone was occupying his attention) stared at him blankly, as though they weren’t quite sure what he was getting at.

The side of Harry’s lip twitched upward at how dumbfounded they all looked.

“You can’t expect to grow if you keep doing the same thing,” Harry continued, before digging his fork into his salad and eating nonchalantly.  It definitely wasn’t rocket science; if they continued to sing covers forever, how could they ever expect to grow popular enough to book Times Square?  Harry wasn’t going to give them anymore advice, but he just hoped the words buried themselves in all of their brains.

For the rest of the time he spent sitting there with them in the café, Harry tried—he really _tried_.  If he was going to have to see Louis every day, this also meant that he had to see The Red Rogue every day, and if he never actually _tried_ to be somewhat comfortable with their presence, he would suffer forever.

So he tried to push past how annoying and obnoxious he thought they were, tried to focus on the fact that he was going to see them every day, and it became a little less hard as he let himself have easy conversation with them (not including Louis of course).

Harry was stuffing his face with fries when he watched Liam pull in the girl next to him and kiss her on the cheek, and it was then that he remembered, Cecile _had_ told him Liam had a girlfriend.  It was actually quite a shame it took him this long to remember.  It made him feel bad to know he didn’t always remember everything Cecile said.

Cecile had wanted to go on a double date with them, and Harry had shrugged her off as he read over thousands of words concerning the soulmates’ theory.  He wasn’t the best boyfriend, was he?

“Are you guys together?” Harry asked at some point, gesturing at the two of them.

Liam immediately nodded, turning to her and moving her hair out of her face endearingly.  He found out her name was Olivia, and they’d been together for a while now.  As Harry sat there, he wondered if he and Cecile looked the way they did, and he was pretty certain they didn’t.  Liam gazed at her like he was absolutely infatuated, like it was hard to look at anything else, and she returned the same sentiment.  She was really pretty too; with braids, smooth skin, and hazel eyes that sparkled whenever Liam so much as touched her.

Yep, he and Cecile definitely did not look like them.

“We had already been dating for two months when we found out,” Olivia had said, which caused Harry to pause his eating.

“Found out what?”

“That we’re soulmates.”

Harry dropped the fry back on his plate that he had been holding in mid air, letting out a sigh.

“I think I’m done eating,” Harry announced, already moving to get up from his seat.  They all protested, begging Harry to stay with them and talk about this and that, but Harry shook his head as he picked his plate up from the table.

“I’ll see you guys…around,” Harry said before turning around to find the bin.  He hadn’t even gotten very far when he heard Louis mumble “Finally” under his breath.  He didn’t turn around, didn’t let it get to him as he dumped his food in the trash and left the entire café.

He just couldn’t help but wonder, however.

 _Why_ didn’t Louis like him?  The rest of them were all so accepting of Harry, having welcomed him with open arms from the very start of the school year, but for some reason, Louis wasn’t on board with all of it.

If Harry was being honest, it irritated him a little bit.  He wasn’t dense, he knew that not everybody he came across would like him—Eli was a prime example—but something about _Louis_ not liking him struck a nerve.

It irritated him daily when he saw him, when he walked past him and Louis didn’t even look at him twice.

What made it especially hurtful was the fact that Louis was actually quite the social butterfly.

Harry was with Cecile, walking around the lounge with her hand in his, listening as she talked his ear off about issues she was having back at her school.  He couldn’t _not_ concentrate on Louis, laughing and conversing with different people all around, because one, he was _loud_ , and two, he had this sort of appealing aura surrounding him.  He was just…likeable, even though Harry didn’t like him very much.  It was complicated.

“Harry, are you even listening to me?” Cecile asked, tilting his chin towards her so he could look her in the face.

“Yes, of course,” Harry replied.  “What was it about your teacher not rounding your grade up?”

Cecile grinned before continuing what she was saying.  Eventually and inevitably, Harry’s eyes wondered back over to where Louis was; the boy was telling jokes, sitting on laps, and pretty much making everyone smile.  It seemed like everyone just adored him, and Harry wanted that.  He wanted the nice, funny Louis that everyone else got.

That was why he soon found himself venturing out into the cringey dorms, late on a Friday night, waiting to run into Louis.  He hadn’t seen Louis that day, so he knew that if he went into his dorm building and literally _walked_ _around_ , he would find him eventually.  Harry was growing to learn about how relentless the universe actually was; it wouldn’t spare him even a _day_ without being pushed into Louis.

He _got_ it, okay?  He got the message.  Quite frankly, he didn’t really care about what the universe wanted for him, because he knew what was best for himself, and he was going to do what he wanted regardless.  The universe could throw Louis into Harry’s arms and Harry still wouldn’t feed into the nonsense, because he had the free will to choose how he wanted to live his life.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his joggers, kicking his feet as he walked through the halls that the different dorms were on, and he wasn’t surprised when his feet stopped right next to a room with a door that was cracked open.  There was a faint sound of guitar strumming flowing out of the door, which surprised Harry just a bit.  The strumming was melodic, causing a serene feeling to come over Harry as he stood there, right outside of what he was sure was Louis’ dorm room.  He felt calm enough to pull the door open, letting himself inside.

Louis was sat on his bed, and the room was dim for the most part, aside from the single lamp that lit up by his bed.  His guitar was on his lap, and his fingers were picking at the strings carefully, with genuine skill.  The guitar melody sounded nothing like the music he usually heard them play; it was more toned down, sweet… _beautiful_ , even.

When his head turned in Harry’s direction, Harry slowed his steps, sinking his hands deeper into his pockets.  Louis had stopped his strumming.

Louis just stared at him, his head following Harry as he took a seat at one of the chairs by his desk.  Harry slumped in the seat, facing Louis as though this weren’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Hi?” Louis finally managed to squeak out.

“Why don’t you like me?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice level at a minimum so he wouldn’t seem too confrontational.

Louis didn’t say anything as he sat there staring at him.  He looked sort of sleepy, and his hair was only slightly disheveled.  He looked less intimidating this way.

“I don’t just…accept people not liking me for no reason—well, except Eli, but that’s beside the point, uh,” Harry started, fumbling over his words a bit.  “Well, I just…I’m actually really cool.  If you get to know me.  I’m nice, and I don’t dislike people for fun.”

Louis still wasn’t saying anything, and Harry sunk just a bit further into the wooden chair he was sitting in.

Harry crossed his hand over his heart.  “I’m not a bad person, I swear.”

“Never said you were,” Louis replied, his voice low and gentle as his lips curved upwards a bit.

Harry hadn’t even known he was holding in a breath until he let it out.

“I just…I don’t know, I kinda like teasing you,” Louis said, followed by a short chuckle.  “Sometimes I _am_ genuine though, like, you genuinely annoy the shit out of me sometimes, but for the most part, it’s funny when your face gets all red and you try so hard not to explode.”

Harry even grinned a bit at that, but he tried not to make it too obvious.  He was right.  This boy _did_ take joy out of irritating him.  Harry’s intuition was spot on.

“So you don’t actually hate me, you’re just a masochist.  Phew,” Harry said sarcastically.

Louis bit on his thumb nail as he smiled, before patting the spot next to him on his bed.  “You can sit with me if you want.”

Harry got up from the wooden chair (that _was_ starting to get uncomfortable), and walked over to Louis’ bed, sitting down by him and pulling one of his knees up to his chest.

“Are you rehearsing for your next show, or what?” Harry asked, resting his head on his knee.  “Do you even _need_ to rehearse for cover songs?”

Louis gave him a look before rolling his eyes.  It wasn’t full of utter hate and annoyance, however—it almost had a sprinkle of fond behind it.

“Yes, Harry, I do,” Louis replied.  “Just because it’s a cover, doesn’t mean I magically know all the chords.”

Harry shrugged.  “I know nothing about guitar playing, anyway.”

“That’s quite obvious,” Louis replied as he jotted down some random numbers on the notebook that was lying on his bed.

“But I’m not rehearsing, actually.  Just experimenting with new melodies,” Louis continued.

“Well, it sounded really nice from where I was standing outside your door,” Harry commented, watching as Louis went back to strumming.  It wasn’t _actually_ strumming, though—it was more like, picking?  Like he said, he didn’t know anything about guitar playing.

“You were standing outside of my door like some stalker?” Louis asked as he played the strings.  He seemed so familiar with every aspect of his guitar, he didn’t even have to entirely look down at his fingers as he strummed and played different notes.

“Only for a few seconds,” Harry replied.  “You should really close your door at this time of night, though.  Someone shady could come in.”

“Like you?” Louis asked.

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry replied, shoving Louis.  “Someone _other_ than me.  I came in here with intentions of friendship, thank you very much.”

Louis laughed as he continued to write gibberish down on the notebook in front of him.  “You truly are weird, Harry.  Can’t believe you came all the way out to the dorms just to ask for my friendship.”

“What’s wrong with friendship?”

Louis looked up at Harry for a second, his features contemplative.  “Nothing.”  He shook his head before he went back to strumming.  “I just thought these nasty, poor people dorms were beneath you.”

Harry placed his hand on top of Louis’ strings, causing the melody to stop abruptly.  “ _Stop_ with that, okay?  I don’t think I’m above anyone.”

Louis moved Harry’s hand out of the way as he giggled.  “Well, I’m bitter about not having anything I want in life so I take it out on you, naturally.”

Harry just blinked at him, his head still rested on his knee.

“Still wanna be friends?” Louis asked, looking at Harry and genuinely waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” Harry replied, almost too quiet to be heard.

“ _Why_?” Louis asked, leaning in closer to Harry, as though he was trying to study him and figure out what his deal was.

“Because you’re um…you seem cool, and I’d rather us be friends than be hostile towards each other every day,” Harry explained.  “Because that’s how often I see you.  Every day.”

Louis pressed his lips together as he looked back down at the guitar that was in his lap.

“Also, now that I realize how talented you actually are at playing guitar, I’m hooked,” Harry teased, nudging his knee against Louis’ side.

“Shut up,” Louis mumbled, shoving Harry’s knee back.

Harry reached over to flip through the messy looking notebook that was lying on Louis’ bed.

“So, do you have some original songs in here for goodness’ sake?” Harry asked, right before Louis’ hands snatched the notebook away.

“Yeah, but uh, they’re not for anyone,” Louis replied, bringing the notebook up to his chest.  “They’re only for personal use.”

Harry laughed as he looked at Louis, this being the first time he’d ever seen him even a tad bit shy.  It was like a breath of fresh air.

“Personal use?  Louis, your band _needs_ original songs,” Harry said.

Louis pulled the notebook away from his chest, just staring at it as he rested it against his guitar.  “I’ll show them to the guys someday, but for now I’m just gonna let us keep doing what we’re doing.”

“Is it like your diary, or something?”

“ _No_ ,” Louis almost hissed, before proceeding to shove the notebook in Harry’s arms.  “Look through them if you want.  They’re not fucking _sappy_ or anything.  Just simple, appealing material.”

Harry brought his knee down and crossed his legs on the bed as he held the notebook in his hands.  He was looking at some illegible pencil markings across the lines of the paper, and he had no idea what he was supposed to take from it.  He knew that Louis was only making him look at it to prove he wasn’t _sappy_ or heartfelt about anything.

“Okay, so the only parts I can make out from this are ‘loaded gun’ and the word ‘control’ scribbled repeatedly.  From what I can actually _read_ , it seems good,” Harry said.

“It’s about sex,” Louis commented, leaning over to point at one part of a verse, as though Harry could even read it.

Of course it was.  Harry bit his bottom lip as he held the notebook in his hand.  He had absolutely no idea of when he started genuinely caring about The Red Rogue and their success, but he was starting to care just a little bit.  A _very_ little bit.  He moved his eyes down to where the chords for each verse and chorus were scribbled.

“Sing it,” Harry said, nudging the book towards Louis.

“I don’t sing,” Louis replied, snatching the book from Harry and tossing it on top of his dresser.

“Then how do you know how the song sounds?” Harry asked.

“Because I hum it.”

“Then hum it.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he pulled the guitar strap over his shoulder and slid the guitar off of his lap.  “Why don’t _you_ sing it if you’re so bent on hearing it?”

“I don’t sing,” Harry replied, his dimple popping out.  “And I don’t know how it goes.”

Louis hopped down from the bed, and Harry bit his tongue in order to keep from making a comment about how he was so short he had to hop.  Louis set the guitar against the wall in a corner of his room.

“Guess the song will forever be a mystery, then,” Louis said, climbing back on his bed and lying on his side, propping his head up with his fist.

“No, we’ll get Liam to sing it,” Harry replied with a nod.

Harry wasn’t prepared for when Louis pinched him in his side, causing Harry to gasp and smack his hand away.

“ _Don’t_ tell Liam about me writing songs,” Louis hissed.

“I won’t,” Harry replied, holding his side as he bit his bottom lip.  The boy could really pinch.

“But, uh…” Louis started, now looking down and playing with his fingers.  His voice was quieter than Harry had ever heard it.  “I do.  I want this whole thing with the band to go somewhere, and actually...” he gestured vaguely with his hands.  “ _mean_ something.”

Harry didn’t even know Louis could be this quiet when speaking.

“It will,” was all Harry could think of to say.

He hadn’t even been proper friends with Louis for more than an hour and he had already been exposed to other sides of him he didn’t even know existed.  He had no idea Louis was genuinely passionate about the band.  He thought it was just something Louis sort of “showed up for”, but sitting there, watching the insecurity flame within Louis as he struggled to voice how much he desperately wanted to succeed as a band, Harry realized he had been completely wrong.  Louis cared about things, he just didn’t like making it known.  For some reason, he gravitated toward acting like he didn’t care about anything.

God, Harry barely even _knew_ him.  Why was he making philosophies about his life?

The room was silent for a moment, and Harry didn’t know if he should leave or not.  He felt that Louis would’ve bluntly told him to get out if he wanted to, so he sat still, picking at the cotton of the blanket under him as the sounds of people walking around on the floor above occupied their eardrums.

“We’re throwing a birthday party for Marcus next weekend.  It was supposed to be a surprise but Niall fucked up and told him,” Louis said out of nowhere.  “You can come if you want.”

Harry scratched his nose, trying to figure out what this meant.  Louis was inviting him to Marcus’ apparent birthday party.  What did this _mean_?

“Sure, I’ll come,” Harry replied, before abruptly pushing himself up from Louis’ bed and going over to where Louis had placed the guitar.

“And if you guys need musical entertainment, just ask,” Harry added, before swinging the guitar strap over his shoulder and strumming the living daylights out of it, filling the room with horrid, displeasing sounds.

Louis broke out in laughter, holding his stomach as Harry continued to strum like he was rock star, playing awful notes and holding the guitar all wrong.

“Stop, _please_ ,” Louis begged through laughter as he kicked his feet in the air.

Harry tried to ignore how fucking addicting it was becoming to hear Louis laugh.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that larry has risen, get ready for the larrification™ to grow even stronger next chapter


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is reallly longgg but it's 90% larry so that can't be too bad right?

 

 

The boys had called and insisted Harry arrive early so that he could help with setting up the birthday party.  He would’ve declined, but Zayn was sitting right next to him when he was taking the call, and he knew he’d be better off just going instead of having to deal with Zayn’s complaints about wanting to see Niall.

So he brought Zayn along, and the boy could barely contain himself on the drive there.

“Look at us,” Zayn teased, leaning over in the passenger seat and pinching Harry’s arm.  Harry pressed his lips together as he ignored the annoying voice Zayn was using to mask his excitement.

Zayn pinched him again.  “Making proper friends.  Getting _invited_ to things.”

“Zayn, the only reason you even want to be friends with them is because of Niall,” Harry said.

Zayn slumped in his seat as he made a face at Harry.  “You act like it’s such a crime for me to have a crush on somebody.”

Harry just rolled his eyes fondly as he slid his sunglasses down over them and kept one hand on the steering wheel.  Niall apparently still hadn’t told Zayn, and at this point, Harry was guessing it was because of nerves.

The party was set to be at a hotel inn, taking place on the patio where they would set up music, chairs, and whatever else people set up at parties.  It was Saturday, and Harry remembered Louis telling him it would start at nine, but then Liam called him around six and—here he was.

“Harry!” was the first thing he heard upon entering the outside area by the hotel pool.

Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and offered a half-smile to Niall, who was now quickly approaching to crush him in a tight hug.  Over Niall’s shoulder, he could see the rest of them leaned over a pool table in the corner, discussing something that seemed like it was pretty important.  There were a few balloons set up in different places, decorative lights, and what looked like a juice stand.

Harry noticed that Niall was wearing a leather jacket, and as the boy went over to greet Zayn the exact same way he greeted Harry, Harry slowly started to recall all the times Niall wore clothing items that extended past his elbow.  Interesting.

Niall embraced Zayn just a _little_ longer, and Zayn barely seemed to notice, so clearly _Zayn_ was now the clueless one.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, letting out a sigh as he skipped over to approach the boys at the pool table.

“Damn, Harry actually came,” Marcus said upon noticing him, coming over to clasp Harry’s hand in greeting.

“I was invited.  Why wouldn’t I come?” Harry asked as he leaned his elbows over the edge of the table next to Louis.

“Dunno,” Marcus replied with a shrug as he flicked one of the balls on the table.  “Sometimes I get the feeling you hate us.”

A short episode of laughter sprouted from Harry’s lips from the true, yet false statement.  “That’s ridiculous,” he chuckled, before turning to Louis, who was beside him, examining his navy blue Rolling Stones t-shirt.  He always seemed to be focused on _something_ whenever Harry came around.

“Hi,” Harry greeted, his dimples making an appearance.

Louis looked up at him as though he hadn’t seen him there.  “Oh, hey.”  His eyes were soft, which was different from the hard and slightly irritated look he usually sent Harry’s way.

Harry rubbed his hands together and looked between everyone that was leaned over the pool table.  Niall and Zayn were slowly but surely making their way over, and it seemed they were having a nice conversation as Zayn giggled and Niall leisurely dragged his feet as he walked.

“So what are you guys discussing over here?” Harry asked.

“Bullshit,” Louis replied bitterly.

“It’s _not_ bullshit, Louis,” Liam snapped, giving the boy a stern look.  “We’re just trying to look out for you.”

Harry was thoroughly confused.

“I can look out for myself.  I’m an adult, you know.”

Marcus picked up the pool stick that was lying on the table, pointing one end of it at Louis and almost making the boy laugh at how close it was to his nose.

“I refuse to let you ruin my birthday,” Marcus said.  “Today’s _my_ day, so you have to listen to me.”

Louis’ almost amused state fell back into hostility as he shot Marcus a glare.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Harry finally asked.

Liam took a sip out of the bottled water that was sitting in front of him before replying.  “Louis, and how we’re not gonna let him drink, or…take anything tonight.”

Louis tapped his fingers against the wooden part of the table impatiently.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he shifted on his feet.  “Why not?”

“ _Because_ ,” Marcus started.  “It _always_ gets out of hand.  Always.  That’s why, whenever we go out, we vow to keep an eye on him and confiscate whatever he tries to consume.”

“And suck the fun out of everything,” Louis added.

“Are you guys talking about Louis’ partying habits?” Niall asked upon approaching their circle, Zayn close by his side.

Both Marcus and Liam nodded, and Harry could practically feel the anger radiating out of Louis’ body.

Niall chuckled as he shook his head at Louis.  “Yep, he turns into a total mess.”

Harry watched as they laughed, adding their own commentary about how wild Louis got at this one kickback and then scolding the boy again as Louis fired back vicious remarks.

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry interjected, causing them to quiet down.

Lost eyes blinked at him, and he felt content with obtaining some sort of power right about now.  Louis was also looking at him expectantly, so he definitely wasn’t going to let the boy down.

“Louis is young,” Harry started, motioning at the boy next to him.

“I _am_ young,” Louis said sarcastically, as though it was an ultimate realization.

“He’s free,” Harry continued.

Louis gasped.  “I _am_ free.”

“He should be able to live his life,” Harry preached.

Louis hooked his arm around Harry’s shoulder as he smiled, pulling the boy close to him.  “I _should_ be able to life my life.  Wow, for the first time, this boy’s actually got a point.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Louis’ comment as the rest of the boys continued to appear sufficiently dumbfounded.

“I believe that Louis should be able to do what he wants,” Harry said, grinning and feeling proud about his newfound ability to defend his friends.

“Okay, then you’re on Louis Duty,” Liam replied with raised eyebrows, prompting the rest of the boys to immediately agree with him.

“Yep, you asked for it,” Marcus murmured as he patted Harry on the shoulder.

Niall shook his head at Harry in an _I feel so sorry for you_ fashion.

“We should finish setting up,” Liam said casually, bringing all the boys to agree.

Then they were gone, moving their separate ways and getting the place ready for tons of people to dance and get completely wasted.

Harry hadn’t even realized Louis’ arm was still around his shoulder until the boy spoke.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said, giving Harry a sweet grin.

Harry smiled back, because in his opinion, what could possibly be _that_ bad about Louis having a few drinks?  Maybe if he was guzzling down an entire bottle in one go then Harry would stop him, but other than that, Harry couldn’t see Louis as being that bad at handling himself.  He wasn’t quite sure about the drugs, though.  Didn’t want to think about those.

 

~*~

 

It only took an hour into the party for Harry to realize he should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

The patio was packed with people, whom of which even started overflowing into the lobby of the hotel.  Harry knew there was no way the inn would ever let some college kids throw a party on their premises again.  Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives however, especially Marcus who was getting so much attention and love from people all around.  Harry hadn’t even known where the other three boys had gone, and he was certain it was nearly impossible to find them on such a crowded patio.

Harry had let Louis have one or two drinks—nothing too crucial or dangerous—but he could’ve sworn that at some point the boy must’ve slipped away and helped himself to whatever he could.  Harry had come to realize he was very sneaky.

“Have you seen Louis?” Harry asked a group of girls who were singing to the loud music.  They all shook their heads, making confused faces at Harry.

Harry pursed his lips together as he pushed past loads of people and tried to find the figure of a short and compact brown haired boy.

When he finally spotted him, he was making conversation with some guy, barely able to keep his own balance as he held on to the brick wall of the hotel for dear life.  The image scared Harry for half a second, because it genuinely looked like the boy was about to fall over at any moment.  What made matters even worse was the fact that he had a drink in his hand.

Harry wasted no time in going over and carefully taking the cup out of Louis’ hand.  “I’ll take that.  Thank you,” he said as he retrieved the glass.

“You guys can continue your conversation,” Harry said with a grin, gesturing at them as he backed away and ignoring the pissed-off expression on Louis’ face.

He didn’t even get to go far before he was nearly choked to death by a tug on the collar of the shirt he was wearing.  He turned around with his eyes alarmed and wide, stroking his delicate collarbone with his fingers.

“I was _drinking_ that,” Louis slurred, snatching the drink from Harry.

“Well, I think you’ve had enough tonight,” Harry replied easily, snatching the drink back from Louis’ slippery hands.

“I…I thought you…” Louis started, bunching his hand in his hair and stumbling over his feet.  He nearly fell over before Harry caught him, holding him upright as he kept his hands braced on his arms.

“You thought I what?” Harry asked carefully.

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to search his brain for whatever it was he was trying to say.  “I thought you said I could do what I wanted.”  He violently shook his shoulders to get Harry’s arms off of him.

“Well, that was before I realized you were crazy, now you can go back—“

“ _Whatever._ You think I can’t get my _own_ drink?  I’m smarter than you, Harry,” Louis hissed before turning around and already heading over to where the majority of the beverage supply was.  Harry almost immediately lost him in the crowd due to how dark it was starting to get, combined with all the bodies consuming the area.

Harry grabbed Louis’ arm once he caught up to him, causing the boy to aggressively shake it so that Harry would release his grasp.  He almost toppled over again in the process, and Harry had to move quickly in order to save him from getting a concussion on the hard concrete floor.

Louis shoved Harry back once he regained his balance, even though the push barely had any juice behind it.

“Let _go_ of me!” Louis shouted.

“Louis, I have to make sure you don’t fuck yourself up until you blackout,” Harry nearly snapped, trying to keep his voice at a minimum despite the loud music pounding through the speakers.

“I’m not going to blackout!” Louis yelled, before turning back around and trying to continue his journey, swaying on his feet in the process.  Harry was starting to genuinely worry—proper _concern_.

“You know what?  We need to lie you down,” Harry announced as he grabbed the sleeve of Louis’ t-shirt and pulled him in the direction of the poolside recliner chairs.  Louis tried to fight his grasp, but it was no use, because he was drunk out of his mind, and Harry was stronger than him (by a mile, he liked to believe).

He began to wonder if this was what friendship was like.  He had been friends with Zayn, but Zayn was easy to be friends with.  He wasn’t very problematic and only annoyed Harry to degrees he could handle, but _this_?  This was a new level of responsibility.

“I fucking hate this,” Louis mumbled as Harry pulled him along.  “You and your stupid fucking…sunglasses.  I can’t see your eyes.  I can’t see anything.”

Harry smirked as he dragged Louis along, before stopping in front of the only empty recliner and gesturing for Louis to lie down in it.

“I’m not lying down,” Louis shrugged, even as he let himself plop down into the chair at a sitting position.

Harry sucked his teeth once he glanced over at the pile of kids resting on the recliner chair right next to Louis, sniffing substances that quickly made Harry avert his attention.  God, was there _anywhere_ they could go where Louis wouldn’t be tempted to succumb to an influence?

Louis leaned down and buried his face in his lap, letting out a scream that would’ve been deafeningly loud if the music weren’t already louder.

“This is so _stupid!”_ Louis screamed.

Harry hesitantly sat down next to Louis, running stressed fingers through his own hair.

Louis’ head shot up as he looked at Harry, his eyes unfocused and bearing a hint of red.  Yep, he’d definitely taken something.

“ _How_ am I supposed to flirt with guys while you breathe down my neck?” he asked Harry.

Harry’s lips parted as he thought of an answer to that question.

“You can do whatever you _want_ , okay?” Harry snapped, now not having the patience to remain cordial.  “Just know that I’ll be keeping a close eye.”

“I don’t _want_ you to keep a close eye.  Fuck,” Louis muttered, before pushing himself up and onto his feet.  Harry rose along with him, letting out a sigh.

“I’m _not_ getting a drink, so you can stop fucking following me,” Louis explained before crossing his arms and stalking away.  He didn’t look like he was going in the direction of the drinks, even though with Louis’ determination, he was probably finding a new way to retrieve them.

Harry let himself give up as he sat back down in the chair, rubbing his hands down his face.

This was truly a challenge.  Louis was just so _stubborn_ and bent on getting wasted that it alarmed Harry in a massive way.  He could now see why the boys always took control over how he “partied”, and it almost touched him to know they actually cared about him.

Harry rubbed his hand over his eyes under his sunglasses.  It was starting to get really dark, and he could barely see anything through the lenses as he observed the party around him.

As his eyes scanned the area, he was surprised to find Niall and Zayn in a very far corner of the party, elbows leaned over the gate as they just…talked.  Everything seemed so effortless between them, and Harry rarely liked to admit that he envied that.  He saw the way Zayn’s eyes glimmered when he talked about Niall, even though Zayn’s eyes glimmered naturally if Harry was being honest.

Harry rubbed his hands on his thighs before rising up again, deciding that leaving Louis to die wouldn’t be the best option.  He would probably end up having to help the boy throw everything up later, which he grimaced at as he made his way towards the interior of the hotel where more people were lounging.

He could already see the angry elderly people getting up so they could make their way to the front desk and complain about everything.  Harry still had no idea how the boys even managed to book this place.

Harry wasn’t surprised when his eyes stumbled upon the image of Louis, hidden in the corner by one of the air vents, violently making out with some guy Harry had never seen before.  Harry let his eyebrows rise momentarily as he let out another sigh.

He leaned against the wall, deciding to let this play out and only to intervene when the guy got too handsy or tried to take him upstairs to one of the rooms.

He glanced down at his wrist watch, wondering when exactly this had become his life.

Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his phone so he could scroll through it and occupy himself while he was on Louis Duty.

He only had one text from Cecile, asking if he was at home and if she could come over.  He’d realized it was way too late to text back now, so he just stared at the screen, biting his lip as he debated over what to do.

His eyes were torn away from his phone screen when he heard the room grow significantly louder, sprouting from Louis’ little corner.

Louis wasn’t sucking that guy’s face anymore, but he was now getting confrontational with a _different_ guy—one that was much bigger than him.

He watched as Louis shouted expletives at this figure, the guy puffing up his chest as though he was ready to knock Louis out at any moment.

 _This_ was an intervening opportunity.

Harry walked over to where there were a few people huddled around, egging them on and chanting with delight.

“Hey, um, sorry, he’s really drunk,” Harry apologized, going over to Louis and standing in front of him so the guy could back up a few steps.

He heard Louis groan behind him before pushing Harry out of the way and stepping up to the giant boy _again_.  He resembled a fiery ball of anger as he bore his eyes into the guy in front of him.

“I can handle this _myself_ , Harry,” Louis said before reaching out and letting his hands collide with the guy’s chest.

More cheering arose from the crowd of people, and Harry was starting to dread this more and more by the second.

“Next time, watch where you’re going,” the guy growled as he tightened his fists around Louis’ wrists.

Louis still wasn’t backing down, even as it became clear that he would never be rid of the guy’s grip on him.  “You’re the one that stepped on _my_ shoe.”

Harry groaned.  Was _this_ really what they were fighting about?  He could smell the alcohol on Louis’ breath from where he was standing behind him.

The guy shoved Louis hard, causing him to fall back—right into Harry’s arms, preventing him from busting his ass.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, because the guy seemed like he’d done all he wanted to and was turning around to rid himself of the situation, but Louis was back on his feet, arm swinging back and preparing to collide with side of the guy’s head.

His fist missed by only a hair; Harry was pretty sure the guy could even feel the wind of the swing on the back of his neck, but Harry didn’t stick around to find out.  He immediately pulled Louis out of the hotel and onto the patio through the glass doors before he could attempt any more physical assaults.

“You couldn’t even let me get one hit in?” Louis whined, trying to shake himself out of Harry’s grasp.  His speech was even worse than before, words barely audible through his slurs and runs.

“ _You_ couldn’t even let yourself get one hit in,” Harry said as he turned Louis around so the boy could face him.  “You’re drunk out of your _mind_.”

Louis stopped trying to get Harry to let go of him, instead bracing himself on the boy’s arms like he could feel himself on the verge of passing out.

“You’re _too_ drunk,” Harry repeated, this time more seriously, so Louis could get the message.  It didn’t seem like he was fully present with the way his eyes were dazed and he continued to sway on his feet.

A party-goer walked past them with a drink in hand, and Harry didn’t even get to blink before Louis snatched it, guzzling it down in one go.  His eyes were on Harry the whole time, as though he was attempting to challenge him in some way.

What the fuck was wrong with this boy?

Did Harry really want to be friends with him?  _Really_?

The person who’d originally had the drink, thankfully, didn’t even get angry, only clasped Louis on the shoulder and laughed before walking away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry asked, his eyebrows knitting.  “ _Stop_ drinking.”

He pried the glass away from Louis’ hands, even though it was now empty.  He just wanted to pretend he had some kind of authority.

Louis’ drunk hazed mind apparently didn’t register that there was nothing in the cup either, because he snatched it back, just like earlier.

Harry took hold of it again, watching as frustration started growing across Louis’ face.

Louis went to grab it again, but Harry didn’t let him as he kept the glass out of Louis’ reach and pushed the boy’s arms away so that he would get the point that Harry was _serious_.

“Harry, _stop_ ,” Louis whined as he nearly scratched Harry’s fingers in order to retrieve it.

“No,” Harry replied with a shrug.  He let his guard down for a fraction of a second, and Louis succeeded in taking the glass from him, right before hurling it at the brick wall out of anger and hurting everyone’s eardrums with the sound of shattering glass.

Harry was afraid to turn around and look at the mess of sharp glass, out of fear that Louis had thrown it near someone and sliced their face up.  He eventually sucked it up and turned around, letting out a relieved breath at the sight of glass on the floor, surrounded by nobody covered in blood.  People were looking down at the spectacle with alarmed looks on their faces however, but Harry shrugged it off his shoulder as he turned back to face Louis.

Harry let his eyes close for a few moments as he allowed the tension in his body to ease.

When his eyelids opened, he was met with the angry and slightly red blue of Louis’ eyes.

“You wanna drink?  Wanna do drugs?  Fine,” Harry said calmly, letting go of Louis.  “I’m done.”

He held his hands in the air as he backed away from Louis, the boy staring at him as though he wasn’t quite understanding what was going on.

Harry entered back inside the hotel, allowing his feet to stroll until he couldn’t hear that fucking _music_ anymore.  He genuinely had no idea how people could party and withstand all the loud noises for so many hours at a time.

He found himself on one of the hotel floors, resting his back against the wall and trying hard to shake the stress out of his body.  It was quiet on the floor he was on, because most of the residents were probably sleeping or watching the late night television at a low volume.

He let his back slide down the wall as he sat on the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest.

Louis really _couldn’t_ handle himself under any influences.  Harry didn’t know if he was an alcoholic or if he, himself, even had the authority to pin that label to him.

He sat as he tried to calm himself down, tried not to be so goddamn tense, but it seemed to be impossible.  For some reason, his mind wouldn’t allow him to stop worrying about Louis.

Harry was often very good at leaving situations and not giving the slightest consideration for how they turned out, but at the moment, his body wouldn’t let him rest until he was sure Louis was okay.  He knew that no matter how long he sat there, he would never feel at ease, and that sort of frightened him.

He let out a yawn as he got back up on his feet, already starting in the direction of the party at an almost hurried pace, desperate to make sure nothing had happened to Louis in the ten minutes he’d been gone.

Regret began to grow inside of him with every step he took.  God, why did he leave Louis to fend for himself?  What a stupid and fucking _selfish_ decision.  The realization struck him badly as he got off the elevator and found himself in the lobby again.  He’d never categorized himself a selfish person before.

The first thing he saw, of _course_ , was Louis holding hands with yet _another_ guy, walking down the quiet hallway, far from the actual party.

Louis glanced up at Harry as they approached the elevator Harry had just stepped out of, but his face was neutral as he continued stumbling over his feet alongside the guy.

Harry turned on his heel once they passed him.

“Where are you guys going?” he asked casually.

The guy turned around to look at Harry.  He and Harry were about the same height, but Harry was probably a bit leaner.  The guy’s hair was also a bit curlier, but he didn’t seem intimidating in any sense.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, to which Harry raised his eyebrows.

“If you’re trying to find a room, I’m going to have to stop you,” Harry said calmly, taking one step towards them and ignoring the way Louis rolled his eyes.  “He isn’t sober enough.”

“Look,” the guy said, taking a challenging step toward Harry.  “He knows what he wants.”

Louis bit his lip as he stood behind the boy, their hands still intertwined.

“He doesn’t.  You know he doesn’t,” Harry said with a shake of his head.

“I know what I want, Harry,” Louis suddenly blurted, startling him a bit.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as pure rage started to boil within him.  “No, you _fucking_ don’t.”

He didn’t waste any time before reaching over and yanking Louis’ arm so that his hand was detached from the guy’s, and leading them the other way.

“ _So_ not worth it,” he heard the guy mutter as they walked away.

“Where are you taking me?” Louis asked as Harry pulled him along.

“I’m going to find Marcus, and we are going to ask him for the key to an empty room so you can lay down and sleep,” Harry replied calmly, even though it was taking everything in him not to turn around and go dropkick the guy that was about to take advantage of Louis.

“I don’t want to!” Louis wailed, struggling against Harry’s grasp.

Harry ignored everything he was saying as they neared the patio.  The party was still in full effect, and Harry immediately spotted Marcus because of the fact that he was getting birthday lap dances in one section of the floor and garnering much of the attention from everyone.

Harry hadn’t even realized he wasn’t holding Louis anymore as he contemplated what he should do in his mind.

He turned around and wasn’t shocked to find Louis, standing by the pool, shoes kicked off to the side as he worked to pull his shirt over his head.

“Are you trying to swim?” Harry asked cautiously as he approached him.

There were many people in the pool already, splashing each other and burying one another’s heads under the water.  Harry was even tempted to get in the pool himself, but he just wasn’t sure if _Louis_ was in a proper…swimming state.

Louis didn’t answer as he discarded his t-shirt onto the floor and moved to unbutton his jeans, and…okay, so he was going to swim in his briefs.

He looked so determined as he worked to get his pants off, and people were laughing with delight as they watched him, some whistling at him.

It was when Louis started toying with the waistband on his briefs that Harry intervened.

“ _Nope_ ,” Harry murmured as he shook his head and pulled Louis’ hands away from his hips.  “You’re not about to get completely naked in front of everyone.”

“Let go of me,” Louis muttered as he snapped out of Harry’s grasp and went to try and pull down his briefs again.  Harry saved him by holding up the waistband on his boxers, not allowing Louis to pull them down even an inch.  People were laughing and chuckling amusedly, as though this was just the funniest thing of all.  Nobody was probably even paying attention to Marcus getting a lap dance anymore.

“Louis, _stop_ ,” Harry warned him as the boy tried to shove him away yet again.

Harry already knew how fucking hungry so many of the guys were for Louis, so the last thing he was going to do was let Louis give them a non-consented show that he wouldn’t even remember when he was sober.

At some point, with Harry’s horrible fortune, Louis’ lack of balance caused him to stumble wildly, skidding right over the edge of the pool as he struggled to pry Harry’s hands off of him.  Despite not wanting Harry’s hands on him, he didn’t even _think_ of letting go of Harry as he fell into the pool, causing a heap of water to splash everywhere.

Naturally, Harry fell into the pool as well, due to Louis not releasing his grip on him.  Harry’s vision was soon blurred with the hazy blue of the water below the surface, the different legs swaying in the pool, and he held his breath as Louis clung onto him.  It was as though everything was happening in slow motion for just a moment.

When he finally emerged, his face was dripping wet, his eyes were stinging, and he was met with the tons of faces erupting in hysterical laughter, including Marcus’ and Liam’s (who now had his girlfriend by his side), who had somehow appeared from out of thin air.

Harry caught his breath as he shook the water out of his hair, now realizing that he had lost his glasses somewhere down below.  He couldn’t bring himself to care.

He hadn’t even noticed Louis shivering, grasping onto him for dear life as he floated alongside Harry in the pool, only clad in his boxer briefs.

All the misfortune he was facing right now, including his clothes being drenched, his hair deflated, his sunglasses gone, his shoes filling with water, and—oh _yeah_ , his phone was in his pocket—somehow weren’t registering to him quickly enough.  It was as though the anger was staying quiet for now, waiting for the perfect moment to burst out and cause him to throw a level nine temper tantrum.

“Harry,” he heard Louis say quietly as he continued to hold onto him.

“Yep?”

“I can’t swim.”

“I can see that,” Harry said, noting the way Louis’ grasp tightened on him.

He let out a long breath.

 

~*~

 

Harry and Louis were situated along the very edge of the hotel patio, rested against the gate just like he had seen Zayn and Niall doing earlier.  Harry rested his elbow on top of it as Louis silently got dressed next to him.

That little ball of anger was struggling to let itself be known with every passing minute.

There was a towel hung over the railing of the gate that Louis had used to dry himself off, before someone had brought him his dry clothes that he had discarded before falling into the pool and taking Harry with him.

Harry was just standing there, freezing cold as he continued to stay drenched from the chlorine water.  There was no alternative to standing in his cold, wet clothes, because people don’t just _carry_ clothes around, and the hotel was less than eager to offer him a robe.  So he stood there, his hair dripping as he feared getting hypothermia.

Louis was pulling his t-shirt over his head as he mumbled something inaudible.

“What?” Harry asked, his eyebrows knit in frustration.

Louis straightened out his shirt as he came over to stand by Harry.  “You should’ve taken off your clothes before you got in the pool.”

Harry’s fingers stretched out, yearning for something—specifically Louis—to grab and shake like crazy, before he allowed himself to calm down, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know I was gonna go for a swim,” Harry replied, wishing he had his sunglasses so he could slip them over his eyes.

Louis just laughed.  “That was so fun.”

Harry turned his head in the direction of the boy, trying to contain his displeasure.  “Yeah, getting dragged into a pool against my will and fucking _soaking_ the shit out of clothes that are expensive is so much _fun_.”

Harry bunched his fingers in his t-shirt, ringing out some more of the pool water.  “So much fun.”

He stared out at nothing as the faint sound of the party music continued filling his ears.  Louis was just staring at the side of his face, and Harry couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.

Soon, he didn’t have to try to guess what was going through his mind, because the boy started sniffling, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand.  Harry turned his head to stare at him, unsure of what to do.

“I’m just—fuck,” Louis started, his voice weak as he continued wiping tears.  “I’m sorry.  I just…” more quiet sobs escaped as he bunched his fingers in his hair.

Harry stood completely still, watching as Louis continued to break down in front of him.

“I can’t do anything right,” Louis choked out.  “I fuck up everything, don’t I?  I really fucking _suck_.”

Harry slowly shook his head, even though his mouth remained open and silent.

Louis rested his elbows over the gate and looked away from Harry, even though the cries continued.  It looked like he was trying so hard to stop it, but the tears wouldn’t cease to escape his eyes.

Harry had no idea of how he was supposed to deal with this, so he just stood there, playing with his fingers as he faced Louis and tried to ignore how cold he was getting.

After a few more moments of Louis stifling his weeping into his hands, Harry finally spoke.

“You’re…you don’t suck,” he said hesitantly, choosing his words carefully.

Louis turned to him briefly, before looking down at his shoes as tears dripped from his face.

“You don’t know me, Harry,” Louis replied, sniffling.  “God, no one even wants to have to deal with me.  I’m like a pile of trash people have to drag around.”

Harry faintly breathed in after those words escaped Louis’ mouth, because he had no clue of where these hidden thoughts were coming from.  He was still hopelessly drunk and not in a sane state of mind, so Harry assumed that was to blame.

He figured some of these emotions probably stemmed from none of his friends wanting to take care of him once he got drunk, so he felt like he was a burden to others.  He just wished Louis would understand that they were trying to look out for him.  They _cared_.

He heard footsteps jogging up behind them and averted his attention towards the noise.

Niall approached them, holding Harry’s dripping black sunglasses up in the air.

“Fished these out for ya,” he said as he held them out toward Harry.

Harry hesitantly took them, feeling as though they were useless now that there were all wet and withered.  “Thanks,” he replied halfheartedly.

“Um,” Harry added before Niall could walk away, scratching behind his ear.  “Louis’ uh…he’s crying and self depreciating.  Is this—is he okay?”

Niall just laughed, his shoulders shaking with the sounds.  “He’s reached _that_ certain point.  This happens from time to time.”  He gave Harry a pat on the shoulder before turning and jogging away, probably to go catch up with Zayn and chat with him about nothing for five more hours.

Harry turned back to Louis, and he was now sobbing as quietly as he possibly could, squeezing his eyes shut so that nothing could escape.  He grasped onto his elbows as he leaned over the gate, his breaths coming out shallow and uneven.

Harry took two steps closer to him and slowly reached out his hand, trying not to think too much before patting Louis’ back gently.  He wasn’t very skilled at handling emotional breakdowns.

Louis stiffened for a moment, but gradually, the tension left his body.  He continued to let out silent tears, although he was a bit less frantic and shaken now.

Harry rubbed his back and brought him in close as the sobs continued.

 

~*~

 

Harry winced as he blinked his eyes open, looking up at a bright sky and smelling the heavy scents of vodka and pizza in his surroundings.  As what always happened when he slept somewhere that wasn’t his place, he didn’t know where the hell he was for a few seconds.

He let out a yawn and reached into his wild mess of curls to see if his sunglasses were lying around anywhere, because he couldn’t bear the sun’s rays at this time day.  He found them somewhere above his head and wasted no time in slipping them on.  They were dry, at least.  His clothes were dry too, although still cold.

He had somehow ended up reclined on one of the pool chairs, and when he tried to move, he found that he wasn’t lying down alone.  It astounded him how he missed the clear sight of Louis sleeping peacefully, laid on his chest as the morning air made his hair blow different ways.

He figured he, himself, must’ve been really tired the night before, because he definitely didn’t remember Louis passing out on top of him.

The sight of Louis sleeping made Harry feel easy, tempting him not to move so as not to disturb this rare, serene moment.  Louis slept with his lips parted, soft little breaths escaping them with every inhale and exhale.

Harry stretched his neck to observe their surroundings.  Most people had left, although there were some who’d passed out on the chairs (or the floor), just like Harry and Louis had.  Zayn and Niall were asleep on the same recliner, although not making contact in anyway aside from Zayn’s head lightly grazing Niall’s shoulder.

Marcus was laid on a blanket on the floor, his head rested in his arms as the birthday crown he’d had on the day before rolled by his head.

Liam was nowhere to be found, even though Harry guessed he probably went and stayed in a hotel room with his girlfriend.

Harry nearly winced as he observed how much they would have to clean up.  Again, he still couldn’t come up with a logical reason for how they were given permission to throw a party at this place.

Harry’s eyes wondered back down to his chest, where Louis’ eyes remained closed as he took deep breaths.  His fingers twitched momentarily, but then he went back to a stilled position.

Curious fingers somehow made their way toward the back collar of Louis’ t-shirt, and Harry lifted it up briefly, just to torture himself further.

The dagger piercing through the rose was still there, and this time, he couldn’t even try to deny it or come up with an excuse, because it was as clear as day.  An exact replica of his own.

He hadn’t even thought about the tattoo the night before, when Louis had taken his shirt off, because all he was focused on was making sure Louis didn’t flash the entire party.  He suffered a little moment of panic when he questioned whether or not Zayn had been watching; if he’d seen the tattoo on Louis’ back.  Harry shook his head to himself as he shrugged the thought away, because Zayn would’ve bombarded him within three seconds of seeing it.

One wrong move that Harry made in order to get comfortable caused Louis to stir, scratching his head and letting out a groan.  Harry just closed his eyes and waited for whatever the aftermath of a horrible night of drinking would bring him.

Louis continued to make displeased noises as he yawned, bracing himself on Harry’s chest.

“Hi,” Harry greeted once Louis finally stopped blinking a million times and properly looked at him.

Louis moaned in response, banging a fist against his own skull.

“This fucking sucks,” Louis whined, letting his head fall back against Harry’s chest.  “Why do hangovers exist?  Who invented them?”

“I’m pretty sure no one invented them.  They’re just a natural phenomenon.”

Louis lifted his head back up to give Harry an annoyed glare, right before snatching the sunglasses off of his face and placing them over his own eyes, shielding his bags and red rimmed irises.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, taking in everything around them as Harry continued to lie down.  He looked quite cool with the shades on, Harry might add.

“Fuck,” Louis muttered as he looked at the mess of the patio.

Harry just hummed in agreement as he stared at Louis’ back.

Louis suddenly turned around, grabbing Harry’s wrist.  Harry quirked his eyebrow up in question, but Louis just stood up and pulled him along.

“This is how you get out of cleaning up,” Louis whispered as Harry followed behind him towards the front of the hotel.

Harry chuckled as he trailed behind Louis, feeling sneaky and cruel, but also extremely relieved that he wouldn’t have to scrape weird stains off the floor.

“Luckily, we woke up before all of them,” Louis giggled as he tugged Harry along.

He stopped right before they could reach the front desk, causing Harry to halt abruptly and almost fall over.

Louis looked at Harry over the glasses, as though he was sharing secret information.

“Don’t look like you just got out of a party.  Act as though you’re just a resident, coming down from one of the rooms and going for a walk,” Louis told him, letting go of his wrist and placing his hands in his pockets.

Harry nodded, even though his face twisted in confusion.  “You should be the one focused on acting casual.  You’re hung over as shit.”

Louis pressed a finger to Harry’s mouth and shushed him, before nodding his head and leading the way.

The lady at the front desk didn’t even glance up at them as she clicked through whatever was on her computer, and soon, they were out in broad daylight, facing the front parking lot of the hotel inn.

Louis let out a relieved sigh as he grinned.  He was so _devious_ and up to no good—it made something unidentifiable stir inside of Harry.

“So where’s your car big guy?” he asked, looking up at Harry.

Harry answered by walking over to where he’d parked his Mazda the evening before, completely prepared for the snarky comment Louis made about it being so fancy and shmancy.

“I’m driving you home, so you really shouldn’t be saying rude things,” Harry pointed out as he unlocked his car.

“I’ll be as rude as I want,” Louis replied as he slipped into the passenger seat, crossing his arms.  He winced suddenly, and Harry figured it was because of a pounding headache.

“You know,” Harry started, pushing to start up his car.  “Drinking a lot has consequences.”

“I’m not a fucking five-year old, okay?” Louis replied, slumping in his seat.

Harry pursed his lips as he started to drive.  “Why would you drink so much if you hate hangovers?”

“Why are you so worried about me?  Worry about the road,” Louis snapped, sinking further into his seat and letting out another pained groan.

Harry set his jaw tight as he tried not to give Louis a piece of his mind.  The boy had driven Harry mad the night before, and he didn’t seem at all regretful or apologetic about it.  Probably didn’t even remember how much trouble he’d put Harry through.

“Louis…do you remember anything from last night?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm and collected.  “Like, the horrible, annoying things you did?”

Louis yawned as he rested his elbow on the arm rest.  “Honestly Harry, shut up.  You’re the one that gave me the green light to do whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah, but that was considering you’d make good decisions.”

“Well, why the fuck do you think they were so hard on me about it?” Louis snapped, looking at Harry.  “Now you fucking know what they already warned you about.  Don’t whine to me.”

Harry huffed out a long breath as he continued to drive in silence, biting his tongue and containing himself.

“Harry, you’re so annoying,” Louis added as sort of an afterthought; as though he just _needed_ Harry to know.

“You are too,” Harry replied, irritation showing on his face as he turned a street corner.

“Sometimes I wanna fight you,” Louis continued, speaking casually.

“Awesome.”

They drove in more silence as Harry bit on the nail on his thumb and refrained from giving Louis a stern lecture about remaining above the influence.  The boy just huffed and puffed in his seat, groaning every few seconds from the clear effects of an irresponsible night.

“It’s a left here,” Louis said, causing Harry to side eye him.

“I know how to get there,” Harry replied.

Louis didn’t say anything as he sat and looked out the window.

That was, until he decided to open his mouth again.

“Take the next right.”

“I’m literally going to murder you,” Harry replied matter-of-factly.

“Please do,” Louis said, pressing the button so that his chair would lower until he could lie down properly.  “Put me out of my misery.”

“You wouldn’t be in all this _misery_ if you had just—“

“ _Please_ shut up.  I beg of you,” Louis interrupted desperately.

Harry let out a sigh through gritted teeth as he turned back to face the road, now wishing he’d never let Louis take the sunglasses off of his face.

Louis wanted him to stay quiet?  Fine, he would.

It was unbeknownst to him why Louis was taking all of his hangover frustration out on Harry, as though Harry had offered him the alcohol and urged him to keep drinking and fucking himself up.  He’d tried his best the night before, and Louis couldn’t even spare him a kind word or acknowledgement for his efforts to help.

When they reached a stop light, Harry glanced at Louis for a moment, and the boy was turned on his side, back facing Harry as he held his stomach.  His fingers brushed over the exposed sliver of skin just below his t-shirt, and Harry examined how dainty and sharp around the edges he was, all while still appearing soft and fluffy.

He just shook his head and continued his journey to Louis’ dorm building.

But Louis really _was_ quite something.  It was hard not to look at him, especially when he seemed so unaware of how he…looked.  It had nothing to do with Louis being attractive—he was just interesting enough to sit and admire.  Sort of like art.  But of course, when the boy began talking and spewing insulting words and witty comments, the effect usually vanished into thin air.

Even with how messy and disheveled his fringed hair got as he moved around in the seat, he was still—

Harry’s thoughts were cut off when Louis gasped, shooting up in his seat as he looked at the road.  “Look _out!”_ he nearly screamed.

Harry didn’t even think before swerving his car, avoiding whatever it was they were about to crash into and jerking both of them heavily as he made the maneuver.  It all happened so fast, yet incredibly slowly as Harry’s life nearly flashed before his eyes.

The swerve was violent and aggressive, knocking the breath out of the both of them once the car came to a halt, slamming into a lamp post that was nearby.  The slam wasn’t hard enough apparently, because the airbags didn’t fly out and suffocate them.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, clutching his chest as he struggled to even out his breathing.

Harry turned around to look at the street he’d just veered off of, only to find a completely empty road with a squirrel dashing across it.  He turned back to Louis, his eyes wide.

“Why did you _scream_?” he asked incredulously.

“There was…” Louis started, adjusting the shades on his nose as he sat all the way up.  “There was a squirrel in the middle of the road.  You were about to run over it.”

Harry let his head fall forward, hitting the steering wheel and causing a continuous honking sound to fill the air.  He wanted to scream endlessly, until his lungs gave out and his voice box contained nothing but a hushed wheeze.

“That’s really loud,” Louis pointed out as the endless honk continued.

Harry picked his head up, looking at Louis as though he was trying to figure out what exactly was the matter with him.  He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as he processed what had just happened.

“So you scared the shit out of me.  For a squirrel,” Harry said, his voice quiet.

“What, are the lives of squirrels not important to you?  Should I have just let you run over it, let the blood drag down the street as the poor thing squealed in agony?”

Harry blinked at him.

He finally smacked his teeth as he pressed his fist against the steering wheel.  “Squirrels run from whatever approaches them.  It would’ve moved out of the way.  Squirrels _always_ move out of the way.”

“Whatever,” Louis sighed as he sunk back in his seat, seemingly offended.

Harry just shook his head as he opened the door and got out to examine the damage done to his car.  It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but it was still horrible.  Harry had literally _just_ gotten the car, and so far, it was his favorite among all the other ones his dad held in his possession.  The light on the front right of the car was shattered, along with a few dents surrounding it.  Harry groaned as he looked at the spectacle, feeling absolutely broken with devastation.  He placed his palm over his face as he stood there, fed up with absolutely everything.

“Hey,” Louis called, poking his head outside the car window that he had lowered.

Harry looked up from his hands, expecting the worst.

“Maybe you should watch the road instead of me, and we wouldn’t have this problem.”

Harry looked down and prayed his skin didn’t flush as he reached his hand in his pocket to dig for his phone, which, oh yeah, was still fucked up from taking a dip in the pool.  He examined it, pressing the button to turn it on multiple times and eventually giving up.

“You can use mine,” Louis offered, holding out his phone for Harry.

Harry didn’t offer a “thank you” or any other form of polite acknowledgement before taking Louis’ phone and dialing his dad’s number.

His dad answered after a few rings, greeting him with an eager “Hey, Harry!” after the boy got through with letting him know who he was.

“Hi, um,” Harry started, walking around so he could see the damage at a different angle.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I…crashed into a lamp post—don’t ask how,” he added, glaring at Louis for a split second.  “And the light is like, shattered, and there are a few other damages to it.”

He heard his dad sigh on the other side of the phone, but it didn’t seem like a sigh of disappointment; it seemed more like he was feeling down about something Harry didn’t know about.

“It’s gonna cost quite a handful to fix,” his dad said, to which Harry nodded, even though his dad couldn’t see him.  His dad would probably offer to buy him another car, but Harry really wanted _this_ one.  He’d grown to love it and he’d barely even gotten to ride it around for a year.

His dad sighed again before continuing.  “But Harry…I don’t think I can do it.  I’m trying to be really mindful about what I spend money on now.”

Harry’s lips parted in response to that as he held the phone up to his ear.

That was...um…okay.

“What?” Harry asked, his voice barely holding any sound.

“I’ve been putting money towards a lot of things lately, so I think you might have to wait it out a little bit.  Or you can drop by and take the key for the Camaro,” his dad explained.

Harry grinded his teeth together as he looked down at the ground, then at the distorted, mangled appearance on the front end of his vehicle.  Louis had his head rested on the windowsill, and he was probably asleep for all Harry knew.

His dad had been really starting to aggravate him lately, and it was because it seemed like he wasn’t first in his dad’s line of vision anymore.  It was as though something else was there; something had come about that was, oddly, more important than Harry, and it was causing his dad not to put him first.  It irritated Harry to a high degree as he stood there, digging the toe of his shoe into the concrete beneath him.  He really wanted to let all his frustrations out on his dad; yell at him, make him feel bad, do all the cliché things a typical privileged kid like him would do when throwing a fit.  He chose not to, however, instead quietly respecting his father’s wishes and hanging up.

He tossed the phone back to Louis, and it fell in his lap as the boy remained still.  Yeah, he was probably sleeping.

Harry silently got back into the car, pulled out into the street, and continued on his way to Louis’ dorm building.

“Did your father tell you to fuck off?” Louis asked out of nowhere, causing Harry’s shoulders to jump just a little.

He didn’t reply to Louis, didn’t give him the reaction he wanted as he drove him to where he lived and stopped in front of his building so the boy could get out.  Louis mumbled a “thank you” when he got out, and that was probably the nicest thing he’d ever said to Harry since they’d known one another

 

~*~

 

It was another day of dreadful lectures Harry had to sit through, and he was currently enduring the only bearable one—the class he had with Zayn.  The boy wasn’t looking down at his phone for once as the professor continued to speak, and Harry took that as his cue to engage him.

“Why aren’t you texting Niall?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Zayn raised his eyebrows, seemingly taken aback by Harry’s concern as he grinned lopsidedly.

“He told me he was gonna take a nap,” Zayn replied.

“Ah,” Harry said, sitting back in his seat.

“Also,” Zayn started, and Harry already knew he’d opened the door for endless conversation about Niall, so he couldn’t complain; he brought it upon himself.

“He told me he’s gonna come to the art showcase at the end of the semester and check out some of my work.  I’m so excited,” Zayn explained, his wide smile nearly splitting his face in half.

Harry sat there, puzzled.  “Art showcase?  You didn’t even tell _me_ about an art showcase.”

Zayn blinked for a moment as he looked at Harry.  “Shit, I thought I did.  Well, now you know.”

Harry bit his tongue as he shifted in his seat, trying not to feel too left out.

“So…you and Niall.  Still not progressing?”

“Well, I like to think that we are—“

“Have you told him you like him, and has he expressed that he feels the same way?” Harry asked bluntly, almost impatiently.

“…no,” Zayn replied meekly as he looked down at his lap.  “But…he’s starting to open a little more.  Like, he told me that his secret dream, besides making it big with the band, is to open up a music shop.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Zayn for a moment, and he started to feel invasive as he watched the boy nearly fluster himself to death.  It was like just the thought of Niall made his heart flutter.

“And where _were_ you at Marcus’ party the other day?” Zayn asked.  “I didn’t see you for the whole night.”

Harry shook his head as he clasped his hands together.  “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn that was a wild ride. as always, feel free to tell me how you feel with comments, b/c they make my day! thanks for reading and expect an update on tuesday <333


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

It was another especially cold day, leaving Harry less than eager about making that trip out to his car to find a decent sub shop.  He had to see the notorious boy once a day anyway, so he figured he might as well not fight it.

He hadn’t even taken two steps into the cafeteria before he heard Marcus yelling out his name, gesturing for him to come and join them.  Harry flashed him a grin and motioned that he was just going to get some actual food first.

Harry took his time at the buffet, but it wasn’t because he was being picky or indecisive.  He wasn’t too excited to go over there and sit by them, even though he’d gotten a bit more soft for them lately—just a bit.  It was Louis.

Louis had seriously put him through hell that night, and he never expressed any feelings of regret in the slightest every time Harry tried to guilt him into doing so.  It was as if the boy had no sense of morality or compassion.

He also made Harry bump his car into a lamp post and shatter his right headlight, only a few seconds after he told Harry to shut up.

Louis wanted him to shut up?  Fine, Harry was going to shut up.  Maybe it would be significantly better that way.

Once his plate was filled to the top with pizza slices, sesame chicken, and pineapples, he turned his head in the direction of the round table they always sat at, never missing a day.  It was filled with the usual—Marcus, Niall, Liam and his girlfriend Olivia, and then of course there was Louis, with the only empty seat sitting next to him.  He was too busy reading something from a tiny book in his palms to even notice Harry approaching, let alone care.  Harry huffed out a slow sigh as he made his way over, already drowning in the excitement the boys always held whenever he came around.  He had no idea why they were so eager to have him.

As Harry’s feet carried him closer, an idea slowly started to take its spot at the forefront of his mind.  Instead of taking the obvious seat by Louis, he ended up rounding the table, walking over and pulling a far away chair and sliding it all the way towards the boys, right in the space between Niall and Liam.  Everyone seemed indifferent about it, except Louis, who actually tore his eyes away from whatever he was reading to look at Harry as he sat down.

“Hi boys,” Harry greeted, his right dimple brightening his grin.

They all greeted him back, immediately going into conversation about how epic Marcus’ party was and how much of a drag it was to have to clean everything up.  Marcus apparently even had to pay quite the price for some of the damage done to the hotel’s patio, and Harry couldn’t help but feel bad that none of the boys had told him this earlier.  He could’ve paid it easily, just to cut the birthday boy some slack.  Marcus didn’t seem as upset about it as Harry would’ve been, though.

“Don’t think we didn’t realize you two fuckers snuck away,” Niall said, his two fingers pointing at Harry and Louis.  Louis let out a tiny chuckle, but Harry didn’t even react as he dug his fork into his chicken.

The subject changed, and Liam ended up talking about ideas for the next party they could throw, to which Harry had to swiftly interject.

“You know, after throwing such a reckless party and having to pay a fine for it, one would think you guys would take a break from party hosting,” Harry said, raising his eyebrows momentarily.

Liam pursed his lips for a second, a contemplative look taking over his face.  “Maybe this time we could just, you know, try to keep things a little more under control.”

“Not with this one running around,” Marcus said, gesturing at Louis as he guzzled down a can of Coke.

“God, I thought we were over this,” Louis replied with a huff as he tossed his book on the table in defeat.  “I thought I could do what I want now.”

There was more laughter filling the table where they sat, even Olivia stifling her chuckles into her hand as she tried to keep it in.

“Wasn’t that you that pushed Harry into the pool?” she asked, a tight grin on her face.

Niall immediately nodded his head at Olivia, not even giving Louis a chance to answer.  Niall could barely even form words with how hard he was laughing.  “It was him.  Harry had to freeze in some soggy clothes for the rest of the night.”

Harry’s jaw twitched with tightness as he continued chewing, but he didn’t let it get to him, because he wasn’t going to physically show Louis that he had gotten one over on him.  That he had drove Harry absolutely crazy that night with worry and concern.  The last thing he needed Louis to know was that he was even a little bit concerned about him.

It almost terrified him, thinking about that guy dragging Louis behind him, down the hall and toward the elevators of the hotel while Louis was on the verge of passing out from all that had corrupted his being.  Harry didn’t want to think about whether there were other times it had happened—times where Harry wasn’t around to stop it.  Surely, there couldn’t have been other times, because his friends usually didn’t let him get that wasted anyway, but the worry still clouded Harry’s mind.

In a way it was sort of Harry’s fault, even though he would never admit it out loud.  He had so stupidly taken up for Louis before the party, because he despised the way Louis looked so small and defenseless as all the boys told him what to do and what not to do.  He believed Louis to be a free, responsible adult, when really, Harry knew close to nothing about him.

“I think, since Harry was the one who was in charge of him that night,” Marcus started, clasping his hands over the table.  “He should decide whether he thinks Louis is responsible enough or not.”

Harry paused in the process of biting down on the tip of a pizza slice.  Everyone was still giggling a little, but eyes were on him now, and he felt an overwhelming amount of power.

“Huh?” Harry asked, his voice muffled as he chewed.

“You choose for Louis,” Liam explained.  “Do you think he’s ready to be given the free will to do whatever he wants at nightly events?”

Harry swallowed as he wiped his hands with a napkin.  He didn’t even glance directly at Louis, but he could see the boy in his peripheral, his stance hesitant and almost completely still as he sat, facing Harry.

Harry ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, already knowing his answer, but silently enjoying the few seconds of power he now had in the palm of his hands.

He rubbed his hands together before letting out an easy and short “No.”

The entire table hummed with agreement before Niall initiated more teasing against Louis.  He even reached over the table to pinch one of Louis’ cheeks before the boy slapped his hand away and gave the boys some rather unkind words.

Harry remained unaffected as he continued to fill the contents of his stomach, because this was his first meal of the day, and he’d been looking forward to it for hours now.  He’d imagined it to be a nice, fresh smelling sub stacked with provolone and a bit of bacon, however.

He was minding his own business as he ate, only half listening to the boys’ conversation about some drama television show that Harry had never heard of in his life.  Harry couldn’t help but notice how fast these guys could change between subjects.

As he was staying in his own little world, nodding halfheartedly to someone’s commentary and chewing vigorously, he hadn’t even noticed that Louis wasn’t in his seat anymore, which would’ve signaled what was about to happen next.

Harry’s entire body jumped with shock when he felt the horrible, stinging feeling of an ice cold liquid being poured down his back.  The entire table went silent for a second, looking over to see what it was that had made Harry so viciously gasp and stand up from his seat within seconds.  Harry stood there, his neck craned as he tried to get as far away from his icy wet shirt as possible, and his mouth hung open with disbelief as he turned around to find the person he’d already figured to be guilty.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, directly at Louis for the first time that day with furrowed eyebrows.  His body was starting to shiver a bit.

The boy was standing there, his eyes angry as he held a now empty plastic cup in his hands.

The harshness in Harry’s tone didn’t affect Louis one bit as he hissed a “ _Fuck_ you”, before turning around and stalking away, throwing the cup on the floor as he walked.

The initial rage that had started to bloom within Harry began to simmer a bit as he chewed on his bottom lip and contemplated what the actual heck was going on.  He tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of water still trailing down his back, torturingly slow.

“Did I…Did I miss something?” Liam asked softly, prompting everyone else to give him unsure looks, shrugging their shoulders.  Niall seemed like he was trying his hardest not to let out even a giggle.

Harry just let out a sigh, before turning around and starting in the direction of the boy.  At least he hadn’t fallen in a pool again, and his entire being wasn’t drenched with chlorine water.  This was much better than that, albeit still cold.

The way Louis had looked at him before shooting profanity at him and stalking off wasn’t just regular, snappy Louis.  Harry could see just a little something behind his eyes that he hadn’t seen before.  It made Harry feel like he really hurt him, and he couldn’t leave him that way.  He didn’t know that giving Louis the cold shoulder would hurt his feelings _this_ much.  He didn’t even know where they stood as friends, if he was being honest.

Just when he thought he’d lost track of the boy, he found Louis reclined on one of the comfy armchairs of the wide corridors in the student lobby.  There was another single armchair set up next to him, along with a table in between with a single lamp on top of it.  Harry wasn’t sure why there were chairs there—probably for moments like these.

Harry slowed his steps as he approached the boy, shoving his hands as deep as he could into the pockets of his jeans.  Suddenly, everything was a lot quieter; it didn’t even seem like they were in a building along with hundreds of other people.  The hall was pretty much dead silent, forcing Harry to hear the faint shallowness of Louis’ breaths as he sat there, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at his knees.

“…Louis?” Harry said, his voice gentle.

Louis didn’t reply as he remained in the exact same position, looking sufficiently pissed and over whatever it was Harry was going to say.  Harry realized he had done damage this time—even though he wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he did.

Harry removed his right hand from his pocket and worked it through his hair, trying to figure out words to say that wouldn’t just make things worse.  After examining his nails for a few seconds, he finally mustered up some courage.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” he said, standing only a few feet away from where Louis was sitting.  Louis looked up, the scowl on his face starting to soften a bit.

“You _did_ tell me to shut up though,” Harry added, quirking up one side of his lips.

Louis stared at Harry incredulously before opening his mouth.  “Are you seriously talking about when I told you to shut up after we drove from the hotel?”  It was obvious he was going to let out a chuckle, but he suppressed, intent to let Harry know he wasn’t fully off the hook.

Harry just nodded, grinning a bit more easily as he momentarily rocked forward on the balls of his feet.

“But I was also mad about my car—and other stuff,” Harry said, shaking his head at himself.  The more he spoke, he started to realize how shitty his apology was sounding, and he was starting to believe he was an actual douche.  He tried to make up legit excuses that would give him at least _some_ shred of credibility.  “I just have a lot on my mind and—with exams and stuff.  Those are coming up.  Those always get me stressed.”

Louis now held a neutral expression as he stared at Harry, his eyes appearing a bit wider than they usually were as Harry stared back at them, sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean blue.

Louis’ words came out weak and soft once he spoke again, and he looked down at the floor.  “We bonded.”

It sounded as though he felt betrayed; as though Harry had led him to believe they were friends and now he was abandoning him.  It was so different and _vulnerable_ of Louis that Harry almost thought of running away, but he stood there, his brows creasing as genuine guilt started to wash over him.

Was he talking about that night with his guitar, and the song about sex, and the way Louis actually thought of inviting Harry to the party?  Because that night _was_ a nice night for Harry, even though it was short, and most would think it was insignificant.  It was the day he actually took control and tried to discover Louis for himself, and ever since, he’d felt proud of that decision.  He didn’t think it was something that Louis really cared about, let alone remembered.

“We did,” Harry replied, taking two more steps toward where Louis was sat.  Louis was still looking at the floor though, clearly a bit insecure and out of it as Harry approached him.  Harry extended out a fist, lightly punching the boy’s shoulder.

“ _C’mon_ ,” Harry said teasingly, dragging the word out.  “We’re friends.”

Harry would’ve missed the millisecond that Louis’ lips twitched up if he had blinked, so when it happened, he took that as a good sign.  Progress.

Harry glanced at the chair sat a few feet next to Louis for a second, before disregarding it and walking over to sit on the armrest of Louis’ chair.  Louis’ face scrunched up with contained amusement as he looked up at Harry.  He suppressed a smile, even as Harry looked down at him with a cute grin.

Louis shook his head, his face growing a bit more serious.  “Don’t make yourself important.”

Harry knit his eyebrows together in slight confusion.  He didn’t know what that meant, but then again, he barely knew what any of this meant.  He didn’t know why he chased down Louis even though he always told himself he could give less than two shits about the boy, he didn’t know why he deliberately inserted himself into situations like these when he enjoyed solitude, and he also didn’t know why Louis had been so hurt by Harry’s fifteen minutes of ignoring him.

He pulled Louis in by his head, stroking his fluffy hair as the boy finally let out a small giggle, his shoulders shaking.  Harry smiled too, his cheek pressed against the crown of Louis’ head.

“Friends,” he repeated a bit creepily as Louis relaxed into the touch.

“Stop being fucking weird,” Louis laughed.

 

~*~

 

Harry pursed his lips as he stood with his arms crossed, his face feeling the light breeze coming from the night sky.  It could barely be called night, however, because there were dozens of lights illuminating the park and making it essentially impossible not to see any of the paintings that were on display.  The spherical lights dotted the perimeter of the area in which the art showcase was being held, and it had taken Harry quite a while to get used to how blinding they were once he and Zayn arrived.

As in most situations, Harry had no idea what to do with himself as he stood there, his black boots settled into the slightly damp grass.  He had even struggled with what to wear, even though Zayn had told him he didn’t have to dress “extra nice” for the event.  Harry had settled on a gray blazer and black jeans.  Sort of casual, a hint of formal.

Zayn had to stand by his work of art in order to explain the caption to viewers and explain its deep meaning and all that other good stuff, and Harry had stood by him for the first few minutes, before Zayn shooed him away and told him he’d be a waste if he didn’t check out other students’ creations.

Harry had been doing that for a while and he had actually been enjoying himself.  He didn’t know there were so many incredibly talented artists in their school, and that the hard work they put in often went unrecognized.  He was so glad that there was a night like this where they got their time to shine and receive all the praise they so well deserved.

He’d known Zayn was an outstanding artist for a while, but he was still shaken by the rich streaks of paint that were displayed across his creation, the different variations of colors used that somehow evoked a feeling of calmness in the viewer just by looking at it.  It was an abstract painting, meaning it didn’t have a definite focus or blatant subject, but it was still powerful and breathtaking, which was what Harry thought made Zayn all the more amazing.

He was a little jealous, if he was being honest.

He’d looked at every painting, sculpture, collage, and ensemble three times over that night, and people were just starting to say their goodbyes and head out to their cars.  There were still many people lingering, because the creations were just _that_ mesmerizing.

How Harry yearned to be one of those kids, standing behind a project.  He would give the world to be good at something interesting—to be born with a skill that would give him an answer to what he actually wanted to do with his life.  He was tired of being unsure, always offering a lazy shrug when the question of his future was brought up.  He felt like he was so behind—he was continuing to be a child while everyone else was growing up around him, working towards their goals with determination.

Harry looked down at his feet, narrowing his eyes down at the ground as though it’d said something offensive to him.

“Harry!” was heard to his left, and he immediately shot his head up to find who he had been silently waiting for.

It was Niall, clad in a long sleeved Pink Floyd t-shirt and black sweatpants, skipping over to him with his arms open wide.  Harry gladly accepted his embrace, realizing long ago that there was no way to avoid the boy’s hugs.

“Sorry I’m late,” Niall said, slapping Harry on the shoulder.  “Where’s Zayn?”

Harry pointed over his shoulder.  “He’s over there by the—“

Niall had already started over in that direction, spotting Zayn and waving wildly at him.  Harry rolled his eyes before walking over to grab Niall’s arm, quickly spinning him around.  Niall was taken aback for a moment, his face filled with puzzlement.

Harry brought his voice a decibel lower as he stepped towards Niall.  “Have you…told him yet?”

Niall bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly shook his head, and Harry was sure it wasn’t the cold temperature outside making his face turn slightly red.

Harry’s tone was almost completely hushed when he asked “Why?”

Niall’s mouth remained zipped shut as an amused smile took over his face.  He just shook his head again, briefly nodding toward Harry, as if  trying to give him some sort of signal, before turning around and jogging toward Zayn’s area.

Harry held the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb as he stared at the ground.  He was certain he would never fully understand that boy.

About another hour passed before Harry was standing in a now pretty much empty park.  Even some of the lights were out, but somehow, Niall was still sparked with energy as he continued his year long conversation with Zayn.  Harry had stood, pressed up against Zayn’s car, watching the spectacle from a distance.

They just…wouldn’t stop talking to each other.

It was as though every time it seemed like maybe the conversation would end, Zayn or Niall brought something else up, making the other laugh—Zayn with his held back, into-his-hand-laughs and Niall with his dry heaving, doubled-over guffaws.

When Zayn finally walked over, Niall by his side as they shoved each other lightly, Harry noticed that the boy was yawning every now and then.

“You tired?” Harry asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he continued to lean against the car.

Zayn rubbed his eye before looking at Niall. “No.”

Harry simply held a hand out.  He’d rather drive a car he wasn’t familiar with than run into a tree once Zayn dozed off behind the steering wheel.

“Give me the keys,” Harry said, and Zayn didn’t even protest before digging his hand in his pocket and tossing them to Harry.  Harry caught them in mid air and rounded the vehicle, opening up the driver’s door.

He heard Zayn and Niall’s low voices as they said their goodbyes.  Zayn kept saying he wasn’t tired and Niall replied with “It’s okay, Zayn.  I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Harry started up the car and ignored the feeling in his stomach.  It wasn’t the annoying, “I’m gonna throw up” feeling that he usually had when he witnessed two people being ridiculously gushy.  He couldn’t identify _what_ the feeling was, but it definitely wasn’t sickening.

Something about their quiet, muffled voices outside of the car windows made Harry feel soft.  Niall was rarely ever quiet, but he pretty much always spoke in a calm tone with Zayn, as though the boy eased him out of his giddiness whenever he was around.

When Zayn finally entered the car, Harry _did_ let his eyes roll when the boy proceeded to lower the passenger seat window.

“Okay, so,” Zayn started, beaming up at Niall who was now leaned down, face to face with Zayn.  “Bye.”

“Bye,” Niall replied, his voice more raw than Harry had ever heard it.

They were really close, and if Harry didn’t know any better he would've thought they were about to—

Zayn sucked in a breath right before Niall closed the space in between them, his head ducked into the car as he pressed a sweet kiss to Zayn’s lips.  It lasted no more than two seconds, but it still shocked Harry nonetheless, and he had to take a second to make sure his jaw wasn’t on the floor.

When Niall pulled back, Harry _knew_ Zayn had already drifted off into another world.  He wasn’t even staring at anything, just sitting in a daze as Niall smirked.

“Goodnight,” the blonde boy said before backing away and turning around.

Harry sat just as silent as Zayn, his eyebrows nearly touching his forehead as he held onto the steering wheel.

Zayn slowly brought his right hand up, pausing his movements right before his fingers could touch his lips.

“I’m never letting anything else touch these lips again,” Zayn whispered.

Harry sunk into his chair, biting his lip as he looked fondly at the side of Zayn’s face.  _That_ was the Zayn he knew and loved.

“You have to eat somehow,” Harry said with a laugh as he backed out of the parking lot.

He could see Zayn shaking his head in his peripheral.  “Nope.  Nothing’s ever going to come in contact with these lips, that Niall motherfucking Horan just graced with his.  Never.”

Harry was stopped at a red light when he leaned over, obnoxiously throwing an arm around Zayn and pulling him in close, making kissy faces at him as the boy tried to shove him off.

“Stop it, Harry!  I’m serious!” Zayn exclaimed, even though there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Harry finally gave up when Zayn pushed his chest back, laughing and over the moon with what had just happened to him.  His happiness was contagious, floating through the car and filling the air with warmth and candy and rainbows and all that other cliché stuff.  It was impossible for Harry _not_ to feel happy for him.

“Damn, did that actually just happen?” Zayn asked after a while, facing straight ahead.  “Did I actually kiss Niall?  Did _he_ actually kiss _me_?”

“Yep.  I was here.  I saw the whole thing.”

“Fuck,” Zayn breathed.  His chest heaved for a moment as he took deep breaths, before he shifted in his seat a bit, turning to face Harry.  “But does this mean he likes me?  I mean, maybe it was just a random thing.  Maybe he just felt like kissing someone—“

“He has the tattoo!” Harry blurted out, annoyance getting the best of him.  The car went completely silent, and Harry hadn’t even fully registered the magnitude of the bomb he’d just dropped on Zayn.  He let out a sigh as he continued driving.  “I can’t take this shit anymore.  Niall is your…”—he tried not to wince—“soulmate, and you two better get your shit together.”

All he could feel was the heat coming from the car’s vents, along with Zayn’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his face.  The boy was frozen completely still, probably now on the verge of passing out.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Zayn asked, his voice now loud and impatient.  He reached out and pushed Harry’s arm, and it hurt just a touch.  “Don’t you dare lie to me, Harry, don’t you da—“

“I’m not lying,” Harry replied.  “I just—trust me.  I’ve seen it.”

Harry calmly closed his eyes as he prepared for the completely predictable hysteria Zayn went into.  It was almost similar to Niall’s when he found out, except Zayn was a thousand times more dramatic and extra.  Harry sat through the “are you sure”’s, the “are you seriously sure”’s, and Zayn pulling his shirt sleeve up and pointing at his elbow to ask once again, “are you fucking positive”.  He also sat through Zayn completely rotating in his seat until his head was hanging off of the cushion and his feet were suspended in the air, probably making quite the spectacle for anyone who could see into the car.  Once Zayn finally accepted that Harry had indeed seen the tattoo on Niall’s elbow, a smile was practically glued to his face all the way home, and he had already started talking wedding rings.

 

~*~

 

Harry was filing out of the lecture hall with the rest of the students, feeling relieved, even though he had probably made a high C at best on the exam he’d just taken.  He was only relieved because it was his last exam, and he was now officially free to go home and start off the winter break with his mum and sister.  He could already taste the eggnog and smell the pumpkin gingerbread scented candles his mum always lit during the holidays.

Even though he was more than eager to get off campus and onto the plane he was scheduled for, he’d managed to procrastinate so much to the point where he hadn’t even begun packing the day before his flight.

He was taking slow, undetermined steps around his bedroom, kicking at a shirt that was on the floor instead of actually starting to pack.  He was feeling exceptionally lazy.

He remembered that he’d gotten Louis’ number the other day, at a random, completely unexpected moment.  Harry had just been sitting in class early, scrolling through his phone and reading through people’s updates, when he’d gotten a text from a random number.  The fact that the text contained nothing but the purple eggplant emoji had given away the fact that it was Louis almost instantly.  They hadn’t texted a lot since then, only aimless nonsense that didn’t really mean anything.  Louis was also horrible at texting back.

But Harry suddenly got the inspiration to text Louis as he thought of how much work packing all his stuff would be, considering he did it himself.  He picked up his phone from where it was hidden in his duvet and tapped to find Louis’ name.  Harry smirked at himself as he lazily walked around his room, thinking about how Louis had forcefully asked him to save his contact name as the eggplant emoji.

He sent Louis a simple, one worded text.

**Harry:** _Friend_

It was actually pretty shocking how Louis replied in under thirty minutes.

**Louis:** _yes??_

**Harry:** _Wanna help me pack some stuff?_

There was only a slight delay in Louis’ next reply.

 **Louis:** _cumming_

Harry snorted as he tossed his phone on his bed, before throwing himself next to it and snuggling into the sheets in order to get as much rest as possible before he would actually have to get up and do something.

He realized he hadn’t seen Louis in a while; the only way they’d really communicated were through about five useless texts.  Harry hadn’t decided to text him because he wanted to see him before the break, however.  He just genuinely needed some assistance with packing, and Zayn was somewhere skipping toward the sunset with Niall.

Louis arrived another hour later, even though from his dorm it was confirmed by Harry to be a calculated fifteen minute drive from there to Harry’s apartment.  He burst into Harry’s room dramatically, and he was practically swimming in the black sweatshirt he had on.

“I have arrived,” Louis announced, opening his arms wide, before bending over to bow.

Harry chuckled at his obnoxiousness from where he had his head rested in his arms.

Louis made the tedious work of packing his items into suitcases a lot less tedious, because he always did something to make Harry laugh and forget he was even doing actual work.

At some point they ended up collapsed on the floor, clothes and carrying bags surrounding them as Harry laughed so hard his eyes started tearing up.

“I _peed_ , Harold,” Louis said, his face stern as he watched Harry crack up.  “It’s not funny.”

Louis had just gotten finished telling a story about how he hated the holidays because he peed himself onstage during a school play of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.

Harry wiped his eyes as Louis shoved his right shoulder with all the force he had, which proved not to be enough because Harry’s body had barely even swayed.  “Why didn’t you just use the restroom?”

Louis shrugged his shoulders as he examined one of Harry’s ties that were lying on the floor.  “I was a shy kid.”

“So asking if you could use the restroom before going on was more horrifying than urine trailing down your pants in front of an entire auditorium of parents?” Harry asked, his laughter already starting to build up again.

“I literally had two lines, okay?  I was Blitzen.  Fucking Blitzen that no one cares about,” Louis replied sternly, as though he was taken back to how displeased he was on that exact day.  “I thought I would be on stage for two seconds and then make a beeline for the restroom, but one kid took a good seven minutes to say his lines.”

Harry covered his hand with his mouth as his shoulders shook, and the look Louis was giving him only made him want to laugh even harder.  He finally spoke up when his chuckles died down.  “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re a loud mouth now.  Wouldn’t want you peeing all over the place.”

Louis threw a pile of clothes at Harry, hitting him in the face and leaving a sock dangling from his hair.  “Shut up!  It was _one_ time,” Louis replied, and even though he tried to keep up the serious expression, Harry could tell by the twitch of his lips that he wanted to giggle too.  “And don’t you share this information with anyone.”

“You were _nine._ ”

“Don’t,” Louis repeated, pointing a hard finger at Harry.

Harry lifted his hands up in innocence, even as a smirk continued to reside on his lips.  “Okay, I won’t.”

He let a few seconds pass of staring at Louis, snickers still tickling his lips as he took in how hilariously serious Louis was about this.  The boy certainly was…something to look at when he was mad.

Harry let his eyes casually wonder to the ceiling as he sang the words under his breath.  “… _Rudolph the red nose reindeer, had a very_ —“

He hadn’t even gotten to finish the chorus before Louis dumped the entire suitcase on him, completely avalanching Harry in clothes and the faded smell of his own colognes and washing detergents.  He was laughing uncontrollably now as he lay on the floor, and even engulfed by layers of fabric, he could hear how hard Louis was laughing too.

Harry mumbled from where his face was pressed against the carpet.  “You’re fucking evil.  Now we have to organize all my stuff again.”

Louis giggled, and Harry could hear his feet shuffling across the floor.  “What?  Can’t hear you buried under all that.”

Harry continued to lay on the floor, fully prepared to just stay there for all eternity because it was warm, and Louis now seemed like he was too busy rummaging Harry’s closet to pester him anymore.  Louis had taken quite a liking to that—looking through the items in Harry’s wardrobe and assessing them.  Harry had no idea why.

The thing that finally got him to emerge from the depths were the sounds of knocking at his front door.  He bit the inside of his cheek as he got to his feet, shaking himself of any excess clothing.  He hadn’t been expecting anybody.

“’M gonna answer the door,” he called into his vast closet, to which Louis answered with a lazy “Whatever.”

He scratched his side as he walked toward the door, already dreading whoever was on the other side of it, because he didn’t feel like having any other form of human interaction before boarding the plane for home.  He tried not to let the dissatisfaction show on his face however, especially when he opened the door to find Cecile, standing in the doorway with a happy grin and a burgundy petticoat jacket.

Suddenly, Harry remembered that she was _definitely_ supposed to be coming over.  They’d discussed it over the phone a few days before, and he hadn’t the faintest clue of why he’d let it slip his mind so easily.  She wanted them to spend time together before the winter break, so they could do…whatever.  Harry wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, allowing his eyes to light up with glee.

“I’m here,” she replied, walking up and wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist in a hug, burying her head in his chest and messing up her stringy hair.  Harry brought his arms up to wrap around her shoulders as well, before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Have you been waiting for me?  Sorry I’m late,” Cecile said as Harry let her in and closed the door behind her.  “Exam took longer than expected.”

Harry dragged his feet behind her as she made her way towards the kitchen.

“Psshh yeah. I’ve been waiting…” Harry said, followed by a nervous chuckle.  “I was just—“

“Who’s at the…” Louis started upon exiting Harry’s bedroom, Harry’s American Flag bandana tied up along his fringe.  “Oh.  Hi,” he greeted, an easy smile being offered Cecile’s way.

She waved nicely as she pulled the carton of minute maid out of the fridge.  The only reason Harry even had giant jug of juice was because Cecile liked it, so he didn’t mind when she twisted the cap off and took a huge gulp of it.

“Look at you two,” she said upon swallowing, her smile almost breaking her face in half.  “Hanging out.  Being buddies.”  She gave Harry a knowing look, flashing her pearly whites at him like a proud mother.

Louis nonchalantly skipped over to the kitchen, his bandana nearly falling off in the process.  He clasped his hands together as he leaned over the counter.  “I guess I’ll leave now, if you guys are gonna, you know, do the sex.”

Harry’s cheeks immediately went rosy as he looked down and mumbled a “Never” at the same time as Cecile laughed and said “No, you’re good.”

Cecile immediately caught what Harry said, her eyes searching his as a silence engulfed the room.  Harry was going to die if it lingered a second longer.

Fuck.

“Cecile, what are you gonna be up to during the break?” Louis asked, successfully switching the topic in a timely manner.  Harry didn’t know if he did that on purpose, but either way, he was ready to get down on his knees and kiss the boy’s feet.

Cecile’s focus shifted to Louis as she scratched at her shoulder, and it seemed like she’d already forgotten about it.  Hopefully.  “Oh, Harry didn’t tell you?”

Louis pursed his lips, shaking his head slowly and looking at Harry, even though Harry lacked knowledge of what she was talking about.  He’d started to realize how bad he was getting at paying attention to a lot of things he and Cecile discussed recently.

Cecile let out a loaded sigh, making no attempt to disguise how annoyed she was.  “I’m spending it with you and your family silly,” she said with an attempt to giggle, pushing at Harry’s arm.  Harry tried to hide his bafflement as he bit down on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, _she’s spending it with you and your family silly_ ,” Louis mimicked her, using a cutesy, high-pitched tone that made Cecile laugh and flutter her eyelashes.

She gestured at Harry as she faced Louis.  “This one, you can’t get him to remember _anything_.”

“ _Boys_ , am I right?” Louis said, to which Cecile nodded wholeheartedly.

Harry lightly dragged his nails up his forearm.  “So now that you guys are done talking about me in front of me, is someone gonna help me finish packing?”

Louis pushed himself to stand up straight from where he was behind the counter.  “I’ve actually got to get going.  I didn’t know it would take this long, and I have work soon.”

Harry’s eyes stared blankly at Louis.  “You’re working during the holidays?”

“Well, as much as I can.  I’m off for the actual holidays themselves, but every day in between…no,” Louis replied, shrugging his shoulders casually.  He shoved his hand deep in the pocket of his jeans, reaching for his keys.  “See you.”

“Have a nice break,” Cecile said with a grin.

Harry watched Louis slowly stroll towards his door, and his own fingernails started to sink into the skin of his arm.  Cecile was oblivious as she continued to chug down Cherry Limeade.

“Hold on,” Harry murmured to her, just as Louis opened the door to let himself out.

Harry didn’t run, because he _doesn’t_ run, but he did catch up to Louis eventually, poking his head out of the doorframe as Louis was just a few feet down the hall.

Harry’s voice came out confident, as though he knew what he was going to say.  “Louis?”

When Louis turned around was when Harry realized that he in fact, _didn’t_ know what he was going to say.  Louis twirled to walk back toward Harry, his hands in his pockets as he slowed his steps.  “Yeah?”

Harry fully brought himself out of his apartment, pressing his back against the wall right next to it.  His mouth lingered open for a moment before sound came out.  “I’ll…I’ll see you after the break.”

“That you will,” Louis replied slowly, confused even as his lips remained curved up.  “In four weeks.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, one huff of a chuckle escaping his lips as he scratched behind his ear.  He was thoroughly confused as to what was going on right now, but he tried to just go along with it.  “Four weeks.  It’s not that long, really.”

Louis shook his head.  “I didn’t say it was long.”

“Neither did I.”

“So…” Louis started, gesturing into the open air.  “Great we’re on the same page.”

“Great.”

Louis backed up his feet, still facing Harry as he grew further away.  A smile poked at his lips as he shook his head at Harry.  “You are so weird.  Bye, Harry.”

Harry smirked as he lifted his back off of the wall.  “Bye.”

Louis pressed his lips together in a clear attempt to keep his fondness hidden as he finally turned around, making the rest of the journey down Harry’s hallway before he disappeared around the corner.

Harry fixed his lips into a straight line, his dimples poking out as he let out a huff.  He finally went back inside, closing the door behind himself.

He and Cecile finished packing his stuff, much more successfully and quicker than he and Louis had, he might add, and she slept over so that she could be the last person he saw before he boarded the plane.  She was supposed to stay with her own family for a few days, in order to get in all the hugs, kisses, and presents, and then she was supposed to use her plane ticket to fly over to where Harry’s mum resided, in order to spend the actual holidays with them.

They were awake at the dreadful hours of the morning, and Harry was brushing his teeth in front of the mirror as Cecile rubbed some sort of mint smelling cream all over her face.

“Anything exciting happen recently?” Cecile asked as she scrubbed at her cheeks.  “Give me the tea.”

Harry snickered after spitting into the sink.  “I’m not some gossiping fairy like you and your friends.”

She bumped her hip against his as she spoke.  “We’re not fairies, you dick.”

“Whatever,” Harry chuckled as he grabbed the rag in order to wipe his mouth.  “Oh yeah.  Zayn and Niall are a thing now.  That happened.”

He couldn’t say he wasn’t prepared for the insanely overdramatic gasp Cecile made as she splashed her face.  She even choked on some water.  Harry watched her with slight amusement on his face as she coughed into her fist.

“Zayn and Niall?” she asked, Harry nodding in response.  Her facial expression was hard and contemplative before she spoke again.  “Not Marcus?...Or-or Louis?”

Harry scrunched his nose momentarily before answering.  “No.  The Great Niall himself.”

“Oh my god.  That is _so_ cute!” she exclaimed, her voice nearly squeaking.  “How did it happen?  Are they official?  Do they have matching tattoos?” she asked hurriedly, spewing out a string of questions.

Harry braced himself against the bathroom counter, looking down at his feet and letting out a long sigh, preparing himself for how he was going to have to say this out loud, indulge in this, pump new unrealistic thoughts into Cecile’s brain.

“Yes.  They have the same tattoo,” Harry replied, eyes still glued to his socks.  He finally lifted his head when Cecile made a pained, choked sound and brought her hand up to her mouth, as though she was about to cry.  Harry kept a bored expression with intent to let her know how over-the-top she was being.

“ _Awww_ ,” Cecile cooed, her hand still covering her mouth.  She clenched her other hand to her chest, bunching up the material of her shirt in the area.  She looked like she had just witnessed her son say his vows.  “That is…oh Jesus.  I’m so happy for Zayn.”

Harry shook his head as he turned to examine in his face in the mirror.  “It’s not like they’re getting married.  Jesus Christ.”

“They’re _soulmates_ Harry,” Cecile replied incredulously.  “Zayn found his fucking _soulmate_ and that’s monumental.”

“The fact that you’re actually indulging in it worries me a bit.”

Cecile scoffed as she crossed her arms.  “So what?  Am I just supposed to ignore the fact that Zayn and Niall—two people we _know personally_ —have the same prints of ink on their skin?  Am I supposed to call it fake and stupid and move on with my life?”

Harry quickly shook his head as he turned to face Cecile again.  “No, I—“

“Is that what you think?” she asked, her voice frail.  “That it’s fake and stupid?”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he tapped his knuckles against the bathroom counter.  The weight of Cecile’s eyes on him was more than he could handle, and he suddenly couldn’t voice exactly how he felt.  “No, I don’t think it’s stupid.  I—I don’t…I don’t know what to think,” he started, fumbling over his words a bit.  “There has to be an explanation…I just—“

“Look, Harry,” Cecile started, taking a step toward Harry as she unfolded her arms.  “Just because Zayn found his soulmate, doesn’t mean I’m eager to find mine.”  She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him close.  “I can still choose what I want for _myself_.  And I choose you.”

Harry sucked in a breath through his nose as he stood silently for a moment, Cecile beaming up at him with her huge brown eyes.  It was hard to come up with something to say after such a flattery.

Harry brought a hand up to flatten against Cecile’s lower back, pulling her in close so that there was now not a trace of air left between them.  “I choose you, too.”

A single sound of satisfaction escaped Cecile’s lips before she brought herself up on the balls of her feet, sliding her lips in between Harry’s.  Harry kissed her back, quickly sinking into it as he willed all of his thoughts to quiet down.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i played blitzen in an elementary school play, except i did NOT pee on myself
> 
> so did you enjoy this chapter? i know i did


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

Harry’s hand was only shivering a little bit when he pressed the call button in order to be let through the gate of his mother’s neighborhood.  He’d decided long ago that he’d liked everything about winter except the one thing that actually made it winter: the cold.

He stuck his freezing hand back inside his car once the gate started to open, and he tried to relish in the few more moments of heat he would get before he would have to trudge out of his car and gather his bags before making the journey to his mum’s front door.

Fortunately, his mum and Gemma were already waiting for him outside when he pulled up, and he was initially thankful he wouldn’t have to haul in all his belongings himself.

“My Haz!” his mother exclaimed as soon as he exited the car.  She crushed him in a one-armed hug, intent to be careful as she held a mug of her signature hot cocoa with marshmallows in her other hand.  Harry nuzzled his cheeks into the wool fabric of her sweater, already realizing how much he’d missed the mere smell of his mother.  Her scent consisted of a mixture of one of her Chanel No 5 perfumes and incense.

She cradled his head with her hand that was free, her fingers mussing it up a bit.  “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, her voice faintly cracking at the end.

Harry pulled back from her shoulder to look at her with a wide, uncontrollable grin splayed across his face.  He’d promised himself he wouldn’t be a sobbing mess, that he would keep his cool, but it was just starting to hit him how much he missed his mother.  He hadn’t seen her in about five months, which was by far the longest he’d ever gone without seeing his mother after living with her for eighteen years.  It was a thought that pulled at his heartstrings no matter how tough and closed off Harry tried to be.

“I’ve missed you too,” Harry replied, his eyes only shining a tiny bit.

His mother offered the mug to him with a smile.  “I got it ready so I could give it to you when you got here.  It has extra marshmallows, just the way you like it,” she said, stroking some of his hair out of his face as he looked down into the mug.

He was definitely going to cry.  He was getting reminded of how much of a baby he was and yeah, he was going to cry.  No way around it.

He took the mug out of her hands as she scooted him away towards the front door.  “Go inside and rest on the couch.  Gemma and I will bring your stuff in.”

Gemma scoffed from where she had her back rested against the front doorframe.  She was wearing her gray and blue university sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants, making it clear to Harry she’d gotten there way before him.

Being without Gemma, Harry had gotten used to, because she’d already graduated before Harry left the house, but seeing her was still refreshing nonetheless.

“You just got home and you’re already given permission to be lazy,” she greeted, a smile tugging at her lips as she pulled Harry into a hug.  “Haven’t seen you in forever, loser.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he reached for the front door.  “Still dating that douche?”

“Still crashing your car into trees?” Gemma asked, a devious grin on her face as Harry shot her a look.  “Didn’t think I heard about that, did you?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her before taking a sip from the mug.  “It wasn’t a tree, actually.  It was a lamp post, and there’s barely any damage done to it because I know how to drive.  Unlike you, I actually have my license.”

Gemma had gotten her license suspended only a few months after reaching a certain point of too many traffic violations and speeding tickets, and although their parents being mad should’ve been enough to make Harry laugh, the mere fact that Gemma was not allowed to drive and had to ask Harry to drive her places was the cherry on top of everything.

Gemma reached out and tapped a hand against the bottom of the mug, just as Harry was sipping it, causing a little splash of steaming hot cocoa to get on his chest and chin.  “You fucking—“

“ _Harry_ ,” he heard his mother say from where she was pulling his suitcase out of the trunk.  “Language.  And Gemma, stop messing with him and come help me.”

Gemma made a displeased face at him, getting a stuck out tongue from Harry in return, before skipping over to help with his bags.  Harry grinned to himself as he picked his mug back up, walking over to the living room.  It was all love between them, and they both knew that.  He was so grateful to have a sister like Gemma who was just like him and didn’t take things too seriously.

He immediately noticed that his mother had gotten a newer, larger, shinier television as he waltzed into the living room.  Harry thought there should really be an extent to how large a T.V. could be, because some, like this one, were just crossing the line.  He set the mug on the glass table in front of the peach colored recliner and kicked his shoes off before shrugging off his jacket.

As he finally reclined himself on the couch, his slurps faintly echoing throughout the room, he couldn’t exactly feel the same feeling of how much he missed his mum and Gemma, with his home.  He hadn’t lived here for long, anyway.  It was sort of like a short stay that lasted only a few years before he went off to college.  It never really felt _homely_.  He figured it probably had to do with the fact that their entire family wasn’t under the same roof anymore, or the fact that his mother had purposely bought such an unnecessarily luxurious house in order to prove some point.

Once all of his belongings were moved into the house and up to his room, thanks to his favorite girls in the world, his mother approached him in the living room, her hands on her hips.

“And _when_ were you going to tell me you damaged your car?” she asked.

Harry pursed his lips for a moment before speaking.  “Oh.   Yeah, I did.  It was an accident.”

“Harry, you have to fix it,” she started, running her hand through her long brown hair as she sat on the coffee table.  “You should’ve told me.  You can’t just be driving around with a hideous looking—“

“It’s fine, mum,” Harry replied, holding out a hand to calm her.  “I…I guess I cared at first.  I don’t really care anymore.  It’s fine.”

Her head tilted to the side as she examined her son with concerned eyes.  “Really?  You don’t need me to fix it?  I can do it, Harry.  It’s really no problem—“

Harry chuckled softly as he held the mug up to his lips.  “I know it’s not a hassle for you to fix.  I just don’t need it done right away.  I want to settle in, watch Christmas movies, bake cookies, not fly to the car shop just so my vehicle can look attractive to people.”  He took a nonchalant sip of his beverage, running his tongue over his lips as he watched his mother.

His mother sat there, staring at him for a moment as though she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.  She sighed easily before her lips curved into a lopsided grin, her head shaking fondly at Harry.  “College is really swaying you a bit,” she said, her teeth showing through her now wide smile.  “Since when do _you_ want to do the baking?”

“Wow, you’re right,” Harry started, his eyes widening a bit as he started to reassess himself.  “I guess I just missed being around you guys so much that I’m more eager to do all that stuff.”

She reached out a hand to settle on Harry’s knee.  “How’s Cecile?  Is she still coming?”  Her eyes were just a tad desperate, as though a tiny piece of her would die if Cecile didn’t come through that front door during the winter break.  It was hard to miss how overly proud Harry’s mother was when he’d first told her about Cecile.  He knew that all that had been going through her mind ever since were grandchildren, grandchildren, and more grandchildren.

Harry nodded halfheartedly as he let out a deep breath.  “Yep.  Already got her ticket and everything.”

His mother clapped excitedly as Harry grinned.  “I’m so excited to meet her.  Hope she likes us,” she said, clasping her hands together and placing them under her chin.

“’Course she will.  She’s a very nice girl, I promise.”

“Are we talking about me?” he heard Gemma ask as she rounded the corner from the kitchen.  She had two mini tubs of ice cream in her hands, one of them strawberry with cookie dough, and the other one vanilla with Oreo pieces.

“With ‘nice’ and ‘girl’ in the same sentence?” Harry asked.  “Nah.”

Gemma rolled her eyes with a huff.  “Just shut up and come eat ice cream with me.”

This was tradition; during the winter break, he and Gemma would always spend hours in the basement, listening to records and stuffing their faces with ice cream.  Harry loved it, because he always despised how people would insult him for eating ice cream in the winter, but Gemma embraced it.  Ice cream was delicious no matter _what_ season it was, and Harry was always more than excited to get to bury his face in it even while it was cold out.

As always, he took the Strawberry Cookie Dough tub, and Gemma took the Oreos, always ignoring how Harry’s face twisted at such a disgusting choice.

“I always forget how good this is,” Harry commented as he closed his mouth around his spoon, the tub cradled to his chest.

Gemma was sat with her legs crossed on the floor as Harry lie on his side on the couch.  Their mother’s ancient _Queen_ album was playing on vinyl, and since Harry had literally grown up listening to all the songs on _A Night at the Opera_ for so long, the words and melodies were literally engrained into his brain.  He hummed along as he continued to consume ice cream.

“Have you talked to dad recently?” Gemma asked.

“Not really,” Harry replied, shifting in his position.  “I dunno.  When I call it’s always like something’s up, or…something.”

“Yeah, I sense that too,” Gemma said.  “He’s probably just becoming a bit busier.  I think he’s dating that lady—“

Harry scrunched up his face.  “No he’s not.  Who could he even possibly be—“

“You know,” Gemma started, gesturing at her own hair.  “She has blonde, wavy hair.  Works at the front desk—“

Harry shook his head.  “Nope.  That’s not even believable.”

“I was just making an educated guess, okay?” Gemma replied, her voice high and defensive.  “No need to attack me.”

Harry giggled around his spoon.  “I’m not attacking you.  I’m just being reasonable.”

“Harry,” Gemma started, her tone gentler.  “It’s okay.  You shouldn’t get like that at just the thought of it.  That can’t be healthy.”

“What can’t be healthy?”

“You immediately jumping to deny dad dating anybody.  It’s okay, Harry.  Dad will always be our dad, no matter what.”

Harry huffed out a breath as he pressed his lips together, his eyebrows slightly knit together.  His eyes focused on a spot on the wooden floor where a piece of lint was slowly floating away.

He wasn’t _jumping_ to deny anything.  He was just being realistic.  His father hadn’t mentioned anybody else in his life, and he had gotten many chances to do so.  Also, the wavy haired lady at the front _desk_?  Not realistic.

“I just…” Harry started, before sighing.  “I dunno.  I just feel like…”

“Spit it out.”

Harry’s eyes remained focused on practically nothing.  “It’s weird, because I live closer to him, but…I feel like maybe we’re growing distant.  Like he wants us to grow distant…he’s doing it on purpose?”

Gemma had already begun shaking her head before Harry could finish his sentence.  “No, see that’s just your college freshman hysteria acting up.  You’re not used to not being babied and walked through everything all the time.”

“Not true.”

“It definitely is,” Gemma replied, before shoving her spoon in her mouth.  She wiped her lips with her sleeve before speaking again.  “Don’t think like that, Harry.  Dad loves us.  Thinking otherwise will do nothing but weigh you down.”

“It’s just weird,” Harry added, cradling the tub to his torso.  “I know I sound like a pampered brat, but he’s never been too busy for me, so this is new.”

Gemma sent a grin his way, her dimples deepening the wider her lips curved.  “Lighten up, bud.  Just let him do his thing, and you stay calm.  You’re actually doing pretty good so far for your first year at uni.  Was certain you’d set your place on fire or something.”

Harry picked up one of the pillows on the couch to throw at her, and he ended up only missing by an inch.  Or maybe two.

 

~*~

 

Cecile arrived a few days later, just in time for their Christmas’ Eve dinner.

Harry wasn’t surprised by how embarrassing and smothering his mother was towards Cecile, although it didn’t change the fact that it annoyed him to a high extent.  He couldn’t have been happier with how Cecile handled everything as she turned on the charm, accepting all the hugs and ugly Christmas scarves with open arms and bright, pleased eyes.

They had dinner as a family every Christmas’ Eve _and_ Christmas Day, which Harry thought was a bit excessive.  He didn’t complain about it this year however, because he’d missed them so much that he was more than happy to fatten himself up at the dinner table as much as they wanted him to.

His mother had shooed him and Gemma away from the kitchen as she prepared the meal; she was _very_ particular about the food she cooked, and never seemed to be satisfied with the way Harry or Gemma did anything in the kitchen, so she always made sure they left the cooking to her.  Who had to put the dishes in the dishwasher always ended up being a heated topic of conversation.

Harry sat by the fireplace, his feet buried in fuzzy slippers and his body soaking up the heat from the superficial fire that was being displayed next to him.  He scrolled through his phone for messages as Gemma and Cecile conversed about any and everything across the room.  His stomach was starting to make a low growling noise as the smell of fettuccine, sweet apples, and meatloaf made its way into his nostrils.

He brought his eyes away from his phone screen and up to where Gemma and Cecile were sat, in close vicinity of each other on the long seat of the couch.  Cecile gesticulated widely as she discussed everything she’d gotten to do at her uni, and Gemma nodded her head eagerly as she held on to everything the girl said.

Harry enjoyed this; the fact that his sister got along well with his girlfriend and his mum absolutely _loved_ her.  Still, for some reason, something was _off_.  As Cecile was sitting there, Harry couldn’t help but think she was a little out of place, and for what reason, he didn’t know.

When his mum finally called him over to the kitchen to start setting up the table, Cecile immediately stood up and offered to help.  She was _very_ good at flattery, making sure to compliment his mum on everything from her window curtains to the tile on the kitchen floor.  She soaked up every last compliment, and Harry continued to place the different plates and mats on the table as he watched them interact with an observant eye.

Once they all sat down and started to eat, the weird feeling in Harry’s stomach started to grow a little more every minute.  He found himself completely zoning out as he stared at Cecile, and she ended up waving at him, trying to get his attention.

“Harry?  You there?” she asked with a giggle, bringing Harry out of his daze.  Gemma and his mum both laughed as well, their eyes on Harry as he brought himself out of his thoughts.

“I’m here,” Harry answered, half-laughing.  “Just daydreaming, as always.”

Cecile dug into a piece of her meatloaf as she continued laughing, turning to look at his mum.  “Your son is the king of daydreaming.  Just the other day…” she started, and Harry didn’t hear the rest because he stopped listening, and he just didn’t care.

He didn’t care.

He widened his eyes a bit as he looked down at his plate, because he felt like he had somehow tapped into something important with the realization that he simply didn’t care.  What didn’t he care about?  Was it Cecile’s stories about him?  Or anything involving their relationship?  He knew for sure it couldn’t have been that he didn’t care about Cecile period, because that wasn’t true.  He genuinely valued her and thought she was beautiful, but for some reason his mind kept repeating _I don’t care_ as Cecile continued to fondly speak about him.

 

~*~

 

Christmas came and went, and it was the same as every year, where they all opened one present before having yet _another_ meal for breakfast together, and then proceeding to open the rest of their presents.  Harry’s cheeks went red at the fact that his mother had gotten Cecile so many presents, and he felt like he was going to pull his hair out if he had to hear her say “You shouldn’t have gotten me this” another time.  He just wished Cecile would understand that his mother had a lot of money, and she liked making it known.  Sure, giving Cecile a new laptop, diamond earrings, and a heavy check was pushing the envelope, but that was Harry’s mum being her usual dramatic self.  Harry loved her, he really did, but he would love to let her know that she didn’t always have to attempt to buy people’s respect.

Harry had gotten Cecile a birthstone ring, along with a few other items that weren’t as over-the-top as his mum’s, but still praise-worthy.

Harry had gotten the usual: money, gift cards, a new pair of sunglasses, etc., which he gladly thanked everyone for.  He’d always wished for the option to say he didn’t want anything for Christmas, because he basically got the same thing every year, and he could also get whatever he wanted at any time of the year.  He knew that if he said he wanted nothing however, his parents would still find a way to shove gifts into his pockets.

Christmas was still wonderful, regardless of all the loaded presents, and the dinner was less awkward and unsettling than the night before.  Harry let himself stop thinking of all the negative stuff concerning Cecile, and only focused on taking in the fact that he was spending the holidays with people who loved and cared for him.  He would have to be an ungrateful brat to complain about such a thing.

On New Year’s Eve, Harry found himself curled up on the couch with Cecile laid against his side, and they were both drinking another one of his mum’s hot cocoa out of holiday themed mugs.  His mother also hand knitted Christmas themed gloves for everyone (as she always did), and they were both wearing them as they relaxed against each other.

Gemma was kicked back in the arm chair, her eyes blinking repeatedly as she struggled not to fall asleep, and his mother was on the sofa, completely passed out as she rested her head in her elbows and took deep breaths.

The television was the only thing casting light upon their faces as they watched the Times Square countdown on the screen. Harry snickered quietly to himself at the fact that it was five minutes to midnight and both his mum and Gemma were practically asleep.

“This has been really fun, Harry,” Cecile mumbled next to him as she tapped her fingers against the mug.  “I could do this every year.”

“Really?” Harry asked as he set his mug on the table next to him.  “So you wouldn’t ever want me to come and spend the holidays with you?”

Cecile laughed before she took another sip out of the mug.  “My mum doesn’t cook anywhere near as great as yours.”

Harry stretched out his arm as he curved it around Cecile’s back and over her shoulder, pulling her in.  “Now that’s kinda hurtful to your mum, innit?”

“No,” Cecile said with a hum, as she turned to press her face into the crook of Harry’s neck.  “I tell her she’s a bad cook all the time.”  She sucked soft kisses into his skin before nuzzling his neck again.

“We’re gonna go into the New Year together.  How cute is that?” Cecile murmured, her voice high and giggly.

Harry laughed as he watched the host begin to count down from fifty-nine, and he already let the tiny lump of whatever it was settle in his stomach at the fact that Cecile probably expected a kiss from him once the sparkly ball touched the ground.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss her—he just didn’t care about kissing her, if that made sense.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

He took initiative himself once there were five seconds left in the year, and tilted Cecile’s chin up before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.  She turned to face him once he pulled back from the side of her face, and she blinked profusely as the sounds of cheering emerged from the television speakers.  She looked slightly thrown off, but Harry just gave her one of his innocent, dimpled grins and stroked her cheek before turning back to face the screen.

Harry was glad Cecile said nothing, even though her movements grew hesitant as she curled into Harry’s side again, her hands resting on his shoulder, and her head resting in her hands.  When she fell asleep thirty minutes later, Harry wasn’t even a little tired as he felt her body go limp against him.

He carefully freed himself of her grasp when he rose from the couch about an hour later, making his way toward the back of the house, where the patio was.  He slid the door open, stepping out into dark night as the wind started to swirl around him.  There were only faint trickles of snow on the ground, which he knew would definitely disappear before the next morning.  He leaned his hips against the railing as he listened to the cracking sounds of fireworks and faint cheers.

He had tried to call his dad on his Christmas, but all he’d gotten was an automated voicemail message, followed by an annoying beep.  He wouldn’t have known if his dad had made an attempt to call him since then, because he’d turned his phone off after getting sent to voicemail.

He let out a huff as he reached for his phone that was in the pocket of his red pajama pants and stared at it in his hands, it’s screen black and blank as it remained powered down.  He held down the lock button to turn it on as an explosion of color in the sky caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

He dialed his dad’s number and brought the phone to his ear as he watched the different sets of fireworks burst into the night sky, almost blinding his eyes in such a wonderful way.

The phone rang as many times as it could before it inevitably went to voicemail, and Harry braced himself for the horrid beep again.

He rocked on his feet as he opened his mouth to speak.  He wasn’t really used to leaving voicemails.

“Uh…hi,” Harry started, his voice wavering.  “It’s Harry, which you might already know because of caller ID and stuff, um…Just wanted to say Happy New Year and all that.  Okay.  Bye,” he finished before pressing the end call button and immediately turning off his phone again.  He didn’t check to see if his dad had called him back since Christmas; he didn’t want to be let down if he had found out he hadn’t.

He hoped his father wasn’t mad about the fact that he chose to go spend the holidays with his mother instead of staying in town and spending it with him.  It was nothing personal; his mother was much farther away, and Harry rarely ever got to see her, so it made more sense for him to go with her.  Also, he cherished their Christmas traditions as a family, and didn’t plan on breaking them any time soon.

 

~*~

 

After a few more weeks of staying inside and enjoying the comforting heat and warmth, including a couple of days when he went outside and pissed Gemma off by dumping snow on her head, he was finally traveling again, dreading another semester of rigorous coursework and professors that gave him headaches.

Harry had entered through the lobby of Zayn’s apartment complex, intent to find the boy and fulfill his requirement of at least one form of human interaction for the day.  Upon walking through the entrance, however, the first person Harry saw was Niall, wearing a fuzzy, light blue sweater that read SANTA.  Harry blinked at it for a moment as the boy’s eyes brightened at the sight of him.

“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, immediately pulling the boy into a hug.  He patted his back multiple times as he squeezed him tighter, and Harry couldn’t help the halfhearted grin that grew on his face at how excited it seemed the boy was to see him.

He pulled back from the hug, still smiling at Harry as he spoke.  “Look,” he said, before pressing some button on the side of his sweater, causing little dots of lights to outline the large letters that were spread across the shirt.  Harry’s eyebrows rose as he watched the tiny lights dance around the letters, and it was so disgustingly cute that Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s uh…that’s something,” Harry laughed, reaching out to give Niall’s shirt a pat.  “So are you—are you supposed to be Santa?” Harry asked, only slightly confused.

Niall scratched behind his head as his smile grew even wider, and his eyes wondered to somewhere behind Harry’s head.  Harry casually turned around to find whatever it was Niall was looking at, and as expected, Zayn was practically running down the stairs, his eyes already having spotted Niall before his feet hit the ground.  He was running at full speed, wearing the exact same shirt Niall had on, though the letters on it were different, and Harry couldn’t get a good look at it because of how fast the boy was moving.  He immediately leaped into Niall’s arms upon reaching him, his head buried in the blonde boy’s shoulder as he spun them around.  Harry would’ve thought they were a long distance couple with the way they held onto each other for dear life.  Niall’s cheek was practically squished against Zayn’s shoulder, and his face was going red from all the tight hugging.  When he finally put him down, Zayn grabbed his face by the cheeks and kissed him like crazy, pecking his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his chin, and Niall giggled through it all, scooping him up again and twirling him another time.

Harry took a step back and checked the invisible watch that was on his wrist, just to see how much time had passed since this grand reunion had begun.

Once Zayn and Niall had gotten through murmuring about how much they missed each other between kisses, Zayn turned to Harry with a smile, walking up to him and giving him a hug as well, although it wasn’t as dramatic as the one he gave Niall.

“I’ve missed you too, Harry,” Zayn said once he pulled back from the hug.  Harry could now see that the boy’s shirt read BABY in the same style as Niall’s, and when they stood together, it clearly read SANTA  BABY.  Cute.

Zayn’s sweater wasn’t lighting up however, until Niall came up behind him and pressed the button on the side of it, causing Zayn to giggle some more.  Zayn’s eyes looked down at his shirt in wonder as the colored beams started dancing across his shirt.

“Have you guys seen Louis?” Harry suddenly blurted.  He’d said it so abruptly that both Zayn and Niall blinked at him for a moment.  The blonde boy now had his arms wrapped around Zayn from behind, his head resting on his shoulder.

Harry didn’t even know _why_ he had asked the question, even though he knew Louis had been in the back of his mind since he’d first stepped foot off the plane.  He hadn’t seen Louis even once upon arriving at the campus, which was weird, because he usually would’ve seen him at least twice by now.  He really had no reason to want to see Louis; it wasn’t like he had something to tell him or give him.

He opened his mouth, preparing to swiftly take the question back, but Niall answered before he could do so.

“I haven’t seen him today,” Niall replied with a shrug.  “I genuinely have no idea where he is, mate.”

Harry nodded his head slowly as he placed a hand in his back pocket.  It was rather strange that Niall wouldn’t have even a clue as to where Louis was, but then again, he’d probably been focused on nothing but Zayn since the day he’d kissed him through the car window.  Harry bit the inside of his cheek, oblivious to the careful way Zayn and Niall had been staring at him.

“Hmmm.  Okay,” Harry finally said, before tipping his head forward at the boys.  “I’ll leave you guys to do—whatever,” he said, pointing finger guns as he backed away.

“I’ll come over later with pizza!” Zayn called as Harry moved toward the exit of the building.

Harry grinned and shot him a thumbs up as he pushed through the doors and found himself outside again.  He pushed his Thom Browne aviators over his eyes, deciding he wasn’t going to legitimately _hunt_ for Louis.  He just wanted to know where the boy was, and since he hadn’t gotten any luck in that aspect, it was time to let it go.

Harry spent the rest of his day unpacking his bags and suitcases and getting his bedroom back in order.  Just as promised, Zayn came over bearing delivery pizzas once the moon had gone up, and Harry was quite pleased with how he’d spent his first day back at uni, although he hadn’t gone to any classes yet.

Zayn spent quite a lot of time texting Niall though, but Harry didn’t let it bother him, because it wasn’t really a difference from when he and Niall weren’t together.  Zayn was just always texting that boy, and it seemed he never got bored of it.  Harry knew in his soul that if he texted one person that much, he would get tired and annoyed by the second day.

At some point they realized they wanted to watch a movie, and Zayn refused to pick a simple movie from Netflix, resulting in Harry having to make a quick trip to Redbox in order to get some Ryan Reynolds film that Zayn kept going on about.

The nearest Redbox was inside the supermarket, and Harry was so focused on renting a movie and getting out of there that he’d forgotten about the fact that this was the very place where Louis worked.  He wasn’t reminded of it until he heard the faint sound of the boy’s voice, murmuring something to a customer.  Harry wasn’t sure why, but he knew he’d be able to pick out that boy’s voice even in a nosy room.  He had a unique kind of sound; sort of warm and soft—yet raspy?  Harry let out a sigh as he turned his head in the direction of Louis’ voice, and he found him at a register, behind the counter, in uniform as he handed the customer their change.  He rested his elbow on top of the counter once the customer walked away, because it was far from busy inside the store.  Harry could only imagine how boring it must’ve been to work at such a lifeless establishment during the night.

Harry glanced at the tiny fridge of drinks next to him, looking for an excuse to approach the register.  He ignored how embarrassing he was as he opened up the fridge, picking out the least disgusting drink in there—a Coke—before making his way to the registers.  For his pride’s sake, he hoped Zayn liked soda.

Louis spotted him as he approached, and he let out a sigh as he watched Harry walk right past an open register with another employee behind it.

Louis pushed himself off of his elbows and gave Harry a grin that lacked any trace of sincerity.  Harry wanted to reach out and comfort the boy, because he could just _feel_ how much Louis hated the red and blue cap the employees had to wear with the uniform.  He could feel how much Louis hated everything about the job.

Harry’s tone was soft when he spoke, matching the still environment of the market.  “Hey,” Harry said as he placed the bottle on the counter.

“Hi,” Louis replied boredly, picking the bottle up to scan it.

Not quite as enthusiastic as Harry was expecting, but he would work with it.

“You uh…” Harry started, suddenly not knowing what to say.  He _hated_ when he got like this.  “You’re having a good day?”

“Sure,” Louis replied with a shrug as Harry swiped his card.

“Good break?”

“Meh,” Louis replied as he pulled Harry’s receipt out.  He handed Harry his bottle and receipt as the boy took it with hesitant hands.

Harry moved his mouth to speak again, his eyes big and curious as he continued to stare at Louis.  “Are you…” Harry started, tapping his fingers against the countertop.  He glanced to the side as he watched the one other employee scan someone else’s items.  “Are you doing anything later?”

Louis shrugged.  “Eric, I believe.”

Harry’s lips parted open as his eyebrows knitted together.  “Huh?”

A slight grin formed on Louis’ lips, but it was immediately gone as he went back to his deflated, detached state.  Harry had no idea why he was being like this; it made him feel stupid for even wondering where the boy was anyway.

Harry set an elbow down on the counter as Louis sighed.  “Eric from the rugby team?”

Louis grew annoyed, his reply coming out impatient.  “Yes, Eric from the rugby team.  Is there any other Eric?”

“Why would you—“

“How long are you gonna hold the line up, Curly?” Harry heard someone ask from behind, the voice being reminiscent of the guy he formally knew as Eli, A.K.A. the guy who hated him for no reason and loved to push his buttons.

Harry kept his body facing Louis, but turned his head only a bit to acknowledge the boy.  He pointed a thumb at the other register as he spoke.  “The other one’s perfectly open, in case you didn’t see it.”

“I see it,” Eli replied.  “I just wanted to be in this line, if you don’t mind.  It has such a cute cashier.”

At the compliment, Louis actually _giggled_ , causing Harry’s eyes to shoot back to him again.  He actually fucking _laughed_ at Eli’s half assed compliment, and couldn’t even spare a speck of enthusiasm for anything Harry had said to him thus far?  Harry didn’t know how, but he had severely overestimated how genuine their friendship would be.

Eli completely disregarded Harry as he made his way next to him at the counter, reaching out to tickle a giggling Louis’ chin.  Louis shoved him a way with a fond “shut up” that threw Harry off completely.  Did Louis know Eli?  Had they gotten along some time before right now?  The mere thought sickened Harry to no end, and waves of betrayal pulsed through his entire body.  Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he stood there, feeling played, tricked, and thoroughly betrayed, because if Louis knew anything about him, it was that Harry didn’t like Eli, and Eli sure as hell didn’t like him.  Harry didn’t know why, and quite frankly, he didn’t care to try and understand why, but if Eli was going to hate his guts, Harry wasn’t going to stop him.  _Louis_ wasn’t supposed to get along with Eli, however.  Wasn’t that in the friend code or something?

Harry clenched his jaw as he pushed himself away from the counter.  “Okay then.  See you, Louis.”

Louis replied with an “Mhm” as Harry made his way toward the store’s exit.  He stepped out into darkness as he shook his head, along with his hands, in order to rid himself of whatever that was that he’d just encountered.  He wasn’t even looking up; just watching his feet move as he rounded the corner in order to reach the curb he had parked on.

He nearly stumbled when he ran into somebody who apparently wasn’t watching where they were going either.  He immediately caught the girl by her arms before she could fall, and any words that were about to escape his lips were cut off once he brought his eyes up and found out who this person actually was.

“Cecile?” Harry asked, letting go of her as his eyebrows quirked up.

Cecile’s mouth remained wide for a moment before she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “I’m just picking up some stuff from the shop.”

“All the way out here?” Harry asked, his face puzzled.

Harry hadn’t gotten any word from Cecile that she would be nearby, so it was pretty odd that she was all the way across town, especially in the middle of the night.

Cecile quickly nodded her head as she grinned at Harry.  “The shops near me don’t have everything I want,” she started, shoving her hands in her hoodie as she began walking.  “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Harry stood in the same spot as he turned his torso to watch her leave, scratching at his head.  “Okay,” he replied hesitantly, his eyes following her body as it turned the corner.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the only reason i know the word 'gesticulate' is because of harry :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry comes to terms with some...things

 

 

 

Harry was rested on his couch, rolled over on his belly as he tiredly watched whatever was displayed on the television screen.  He wasn’t genuinely paying attention, because his mind was focusing on more important things, like falling asleep.  He breathed slowly as his eyes started to blink in slightly longer increments each time, and he disregarded the fact that it was only four in the evening.

Right when he was sure his body had completely shut down and he was about to fall into a deep slumber, his front door burst open, and in came Niall, skipping into his living room with his guitar strapped to his back.

Harry groaned before turning his head to bury it in the couch cushion.  “I forgot you guys were coming,” he whined, his voice muffled.

His place had become the go-to destination for their band to practice, mainly because Harry had let them use it the first time and they took that and ran with it, and also because Zayn was now dating Niall and would probably shoot lasers through his head if he told them to go away.

“Yep!  We’re here,” Niall replied cheerily.  “Marcus, come help me lift this!”

Harry didn’t move his head from where it was buried in the couch, only relying on his ears in order to figure out what was going on around him.  He listened as Marcus bounded over, and he came to find that he and Niall were lifting the couch Harry was currently laying on.  He buried his face deeper into his arms as the couch slightly swayed, and then was set back down on the ground a few feet away.  The living room grew noisier and noisier as the boys started to bring all their equipment in, and then they started testing out their instruments, making jokes, and roughhousing.  The original plan had been for Harry to ignore that they were there and take a nap anyway, but there was no possible way a person could sleep with all the ruckus.

He tried not to scowl as he heard Louis speak, because he was still a little displeased with the way the boy had treated him when they’d first gotten back from the break.  It was as though Louis had forgotten that they were friends; that he’d passed out drunk on top of Harry, and Harry actually let him lay there.

From what Harry could hear, Louis didn’t seem all glum and irritated like before; he was giggly and talkative as he kept making jokes about Niall’s brown roots.  Harry finally lifted his head up, turning his head to the side to face them as his head remained rested in his arms.

“So,” Liam started, holding onto his mic stand.  His voice gently echoed throughout the room as he spoke into the mic, as though he was actually talking to a crowd full of people.  “We’re about to try out ‘Cardiac Arrest’ by The Bad Suns.”

Harry continued watching them with sleepy eyes as Marcus tapped his drumsticks together and the guitar melodies started.  It sounded nice; it needed just a little more practice, but Harry figured that was why they were there.  In Harry’s opinion, Louis was the only one who was playing perfectly.  He strummed every single note correctly, his eyes trained on his guitar the entire time, without even daring to focus on anything else.

While observing them, Harry couldn’t help but think about how fitting it would be for them to have original music.  He could definitely see them making it big if they did—they had a unique look, Liam had the voice, and they were actually talented boys.  Harry just wished they would stop being lazy and actually put in just a little more effort, instead of gliding through rehearsals and getting gigs over with.  He knew how much Louis wanted this to take off, so watching them continue not to progress was somewhat saddening.  He wanted Louis to do good, because the boy had so much passion inside of him that he never let anybody see.

Harry chose his moment to interject after they’d finished rehearsing the song for the third time.

“You know, it would be really amazing if you guys tried out an original song, just to see how it sounds,” Harry suggested as he sat up on the couch.

The boys had been laughing and messing around, so it took them a moment to realize Harry had even said anything.  Liam blinked at him for a moment as he grasped the stand, and then he chuckled.

“Where are we supposed to get original stuff?”

Harry’s lips parted to speak, but he realized he hadn’t had an actual answer to that question unless he was going to blatantly go against Louis’ wishes and expose him for being a songwriter.

Louis stared at his feet as he strummed quiet chords on his guitar, and Marcus whispered something in Niall’s ear that made him laugh.

“It can’t be that hard to write a song,” Harry said, which evoked more laughs from all of the boys except Louis.

“Trust us dude.  If any of us knew how to put lyrics and a melody together, we would’ve written a song by now,” Marcus replied.

At this, Louis’ head finally shot up, and he appeared to be offended as well as shocked.  “ _Hey_.  _I_ know how to put lyrics and a melody together, thank you very fucking much.”

Harry’s right dimple popped out with enthusiasm as he watched Louis get riled up.  All of the boys blinked at him, their faces bearing nothing but obliviousness.

“Okay, look,” Louis started, already starting to slide his guitar strap off of his body. He walked over to his bag that he had dropped on the floor upon entering.  “I have one song, okay?  If you guys actually consider playing it, don’t fuck it up.”

Harry tried his best not to smile too brightly, but he couldn’t help the wideness of his eyes as he watched Louis show his band mates the scribbles in his notebook.  Surprisingly, they didn’t immediately complain about not being able to read it.

“This is…really good, actually,” Marcus commented as he peered over Liam’s shoulder to read from the notebook.  “Especially with those chords and the upbeat rhythm.  We could make that work.”

“Did you write this after a one night stand or something?” Liam asked, poking Louis in the shoulder and causing his face to go only a faint shade of scarlet.

“Maybe,” Louis replied as he fixed his hair.

Harry held his cheeks, trying to contain his excitement for the fact that he was possibly going to witness one of Louis’ songs come to life.

The band worked out the different parts for each band member to rehearse, the correct notes and chords, and changed around a few lyrics so it could “reflect all of them”, and although it sounded extremely messy at first, Harry could hear nothing but a potentially fun, upbeat song.

Once they finally got it right, however, after a few more hours of actual hard work, Harry’s face fully lit up at how truly beautiful the song sounded when finished.  Louis looked like he had so much fun playing it, Marcus gave the drums all the energy he had, Niall strummed the bass perfectly, and Liam’s vocals went graciously with the tone of the song.  Harry was sure he’d never been this happy with the band in his few months of knowing them.

His level of hopefulness increased for the band a week later, when they had booked a gig at some local venue where they would play Louis’ song in front of an audience for the very first time.

The gig they were playing wasn’t much different from the one at the beginning of the school year, except everyone was inside, and there was a bar nearby, along with many tables and chairs for everyone to utilize, although no one did.  Harry had no idea of what the actual event was, because of the fact that he had shown up late, but when he arrived he was met with a dancing crowd of people and the overall joyful energy of the room.  It was dimly lit in the venue, every face hardly distinguishable from the next, but the one thing Harry could definitely see were all of the boys on stage, preparing themselves for their next song.

Harry scanned his eyes through the crowd of people as best he could, and a few seconds passed before he felt someone abruptly tug on his arm.  He didn’t even have to turn his head to know it was Zayn.

“C’mon,” the boy said, before pulling Harry along and forcing him to shove through the crowds of people.  Harry wanted to protest that he would be able to see the band from wherever he was in the room and would much rather like to sit down at one of the tables, but he figured he wouldn’t deprive Zayn of his front row spot to ogle at Niall.

The venue was a bit crowded, most likely because more people had shown up than anyone was prepared for.

Harry made his way up to the front with Zayn, just like they’d done the first time Harry had ever watched the band play, and when they started, Harry only feared for his eardrums a tiny bit.  They were so close to the stage that Zayn was nearly breaking his neck trying to lock eyes with Niall, and if Harry tried to talk, he was sure he wouldn’t even be able to hear himself over the speakers blasting by his ear.  Normally, he would’ve complained, or silently excused himself from the whole ordeal without telling Zayn, but once the song that Harry had originally read on a messy piece of notebook paper was being brought to life, and the crowd was soaking it up wistfully, and Louis looked so fucking happy onstage that it was contagious, Harry couldn’t bring himself to whine.

Harry was _not_ soft in any way, shape, or form, but watching them up there brought about this little, tiny, bright ball of gratitude from deep within him.  He didn’t know when he started caring about Louis’ hopes and dreams so much, but he _did_ , and he wanted the boy to succeed in everything.  He wanted Louis to spend his entire life up there, onstage, strumming with all the passion he could muster, doing something he genuinely loved and making something of his life.  Harry figured that since he couldn’t figure out how he was going to be useful in the world, it helped that he was getting to witness someone else do it so well.  He envied how Louis was so nonchalant and carefree about everything, yet he had so much to offer the world and heaps of determination buried within him.  Harry wanted him to succeed.

After the song was over and the crowd was recovering from an intense round of jumping and singing along, Liam brought the mic back up to his lips to speak again.

“That was called ‘No Control’,” he said with a smile, his speech revealing he was slightly out of breath.  “And we would like to introduce our guitarist Louis as our official songwriter.”

Louis’ head shot up from where he was stroking the strings of his guitar, and his cheeks went a shade of red.  Harry could tell this was the first time he was hearing this, and it only made him all the softer.  Harry’s insides were warm as he rested his elbows against the edge of the stage, listening as the crowd erupted into more applause and Liam swung an elbow around a now incredibly shy Louis.

His attention was pulled away from the stage for the first time that night when Zayn tapped his arm.

“Louis wrote that?” he asked, his voice straining over the noise of the people.

Harry nodded his head, unable to control the proud grin that grew on his face.  He had no idea why he was proud; it wasn’t like Louis was _connected_ to him in any way _._ They weren’t even best friends.  They just shared the same print of ink on their bodies and spoke occasionally.  Well maybe a lot, considering how much they’d been texting lately.

As soon as the venue was starting to clear out and the boys had begun packing up their equipment, Harry made his way backstage in order to congratulate the boy on getting to finally perform a song that he’d written and watching people rock out to it.

He didn’t get very far upon approaching the backstage area however, before finding Louis, posted up against the back wall as Eli loomed over him.  He didn’t even know Eli had been there, and didn’t actually care, but the sight of him laughing as he stood so close next to Louis, who was whispering softly into his ear and neck area, was enough to make Harry change his mind about congratulating the ungrateful, rude dickhead.

He didn’t even look for Zayn as he slowly made his way toward the exit of the god forsaken place.  It almost disgusted him to think for a second that he actually allowed himself to care so much about the boy and think to congratulate him, only to find him feeling up and down the waist of a boy who wasn’t shy in letting Harry know how much he hated him.

He played with his fingertips as he found himself outside, strolling through the night with no intentions of going anywhere in particular.  His emotions were starting to consume him, and they were confusing him in ways he didn’t understand, affecting his mood, affecting the way he acted.  He felt like he was genuinely starting to lose it.

He hated how much he cared.  He hated how much he was starting to care.  As a person who took great pride in being uninterested and turning a blind eye, Harry _hated_ when people actually had an effect on him and his emotions.  This boy had gotten Harry attached, made him angry, gave him hope, all by doing absolutely _nothing_.  The boy could just sit there and Harry would be intrigued by him, but it was quickly becoming obvious that such a thing wasn’t true for the other way around.

He continued walking, watching his feet hit the grass as he somehow ended up near the short bridge that stretched over one of the lakes.  He slowed his steps as he turned his head to the side, his eyes falling upon the dark blue lake, tiny ripples to its surface as the water slowly moved upward.

All he could think about was Louis.

It wasn’t even in a good way.  All he could think about was how he probably wasn’t even wondering where Harry had gone off to.  He was most likely letting Eli feel him up backstage, completely disregarding his friend Harry who, if he’d forgotten, was the only reason they performed his song in the first place.

He settled his elbows over the bridge railing as he looked down at the body of water beneath him.  His fists clenched up tight, causing some of his skin to whiten, and then he unclenched them, before gripping on to the railing.

He just wanted…he didn’t know what he wanted.  And it was driving him mad.

If he had never pursued Louis in the first place, he would’ve been much better off.  He wouldn’t have to feel these _feelings_ and beat himself up about nothing.  He would’ve been perfectly happily with Cecile, instead of questioning everything they did together, like he’d been doing so much lately.  It was nearly tearing him apart, the fact that he was stringing Cecile along and acting like he didn’t have an entire soulmate that he associated himself with everyday.  A soulmate who, now that the universe wasn’t shoving him in his face every day, Harry actively went out to find, just to get a glimpse of the boy.  His fucking soulmate was _right_ there.

His soulmate.

Harry bit on his bottom lip as he knit his eyebrows together in frustration.  He kept his eyes focused on the lake.

“Oh God…” he started, allowing his fists to clench and unclench again.  He felt a headache coming right around the corner, ready to hit him hard and bring him even more suffering.

He brought his head up to look at the sky, letting out a breath in exasperation.

“Okay.  Fuck, I’ll—I’ll try.”

The feathery gray clouds floated freely above, mocking him and his panicked, uneasy state.

“He’s a...why is he…”  He brought his eyes down and shook his head at his feet.  “I’ll try, just…” he started, bringing his joined hands up to his chin.  “Send me something.  I need a sign.  Please.”

He was aware that if anyone had been standing around, they’d probably think to ask what the fuck was wrong with him, but he didn’t care.  He was going to speak directly to the universe, since it wanted to torture him with all of this soulmate bullshit.  He was tired of suffering.

He looked up to the sky one more time, checking to see if he had been heard.

Nothing.

He let out a sigh of frustration before pushing himself up from where he was rested against the bridge and continuing his aimless journey.  He didn’t even know what he’d just asked for—what he’d just agreed to “try”.  Was it putting someone else’s needs before his?  Caring about somebody so much it hurt?  Was it Louis?

All he could think about was Louis.  For every step he watched his feet take on the ground, Louis’ name repeated in his head.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he _hadn’t_ been thinking about—

His feet screeched to a halt once he turned the corner of some dark corridor of the park and found something he wasn’t quite prepared for.

For a moment, he blinked his big eyes, wondering if he had somehow mistaken a ridiculous dream for reality, and if he was actually sleeping right now.  Finding out this entire night had been a dream would be a good thing, anyway; it would mean that Louis hadn’t _actually_ been latched onto Eli.

It would also mean he didn’t just walk in on his girlfriend and Marcus making out.

He couldn’t figure out why he was still standing there, completely motionless, after he’d just stumbled upon his own girlfriend and fucking _Marcus_ , getting quite intimate under the dim light of the corridor.

Their lips immediately detached once they heard Harry’s footsteps stop right in front of them, and the panicked words of them immediately apologizing and begging for forgiveness turned into muffled sounds in Harry’s ears as he stood there, staring blankly at the two of them.

He wasn’t angry as Cecile approached him, her eyes watery with tears that threatened to fall, her voice shaky.  He wasn’t filled with rage as Marcus stood back like a deer in headlights, coughing into his fist as Cecile braced her hand on Harry’s shoulder and tried to shake him awake.

Among everything that was happening, amidst the betrayal that he was witnessing, the only thing that truly startled him was the fact that he didn’t feel a thing.

He thought back to when he and Cecile had first met.  It had been during the summer, through mutual friends—or acquaintances, more accurately.  Acquaintances whose parents were friends, thus making them feel obligated to spend time around each other with nothing to do during the summer.  It was at one of his father’s friend’s grilling parties or whatever people liked to call it, and Zayn and some other guy Harry had now forgotten the name of were talking about how long it’d been since Harry had dated anybody.  Harry had shrugged, because dating truly wasn’t on his list of things that were important, since he was highly stressed about starting his first year at uni.  Eventually, the topic of Cecile came up, because she was standing off to the side, she was objectively pretty, she was single, and her parents were obviously in the same social circle as his, so why not?  It would just _work_ , so Harry had approached her.

He knew from the moment he’d first spoken to her that they would date; it was inevitable.  He just didn’t know that it would take him six months to realize he hadn’t ever felt a thing.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Cecile said weakly, before letting her head fall against his chest.  “I’m so sorry.  I know you’ll never forgive me, but please, we were just—“

Harry took a step back, allowing space to be made between them again.  Cecile’s cries stopped for a second as she looked up at him with pleading, apologetic eyes.  She seemed like she didn’t know what to do with her hands as they fell to her sides, defeated.

“I…” Harry started, trying to figure out what one was even supposed to say in a situation like this.  He thought maybe he should ask when it started, figure out all the times she cheated and stuff, but he realized he didn’t care.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Harry said, his words coming out calmly.  He slowly moved his feet to back further away from her, before fully turning around and walking in the direction he remembered his car to be, even though he’d gone exceptionally far.

 

~*~

 

Harry had his thick duvet curled around himself as he sat on the bench of his balcony.  He knew going inside would be an easier and warmer option, but he quite liked the view of the sky dotted with stars, as well as the streets down below.  He was doing a good job of keeping warm as he remained wrapped up in the blanket, even though the icy cold air hitting his face was far from pleasant.

It had been a week since he’d broken up with Cecile that night, and he quickly discovered that a lot of his free time that wasn’t napping consisted of talking to Cecile about nothing.  He didn’t know if he liked or didn’t like the fact that there was now a gaping hole in his daily routines.

It couldn’t have been much of a problem for him anyway, because he liked being alone.  He enjoyed staying to himself and being left with nothing but his thoughts, just like he was tonight.

It had also been a week since he’d seen or spoken to Louis, because the boy never texted him unless Harry texted him first, and Harry decided against doing such an idiotic thing.  He was probably snuggled up with Eli anyway.  Harry would most likely never associate himself with Louis ever again.  He would be much better off, and he wouldn’t have to deal with an embarrassing breakdown such as the one he’d had that night on the bridge.  He’d disregarded everything he’d said, or promised, on that bridge.  It didn’t matter.

Even though he couldn’t help but think about how long it’d been since he’d seen Louis, he tried to focus more on the fact that he was finally _alone_.  No one to talk to or check up on him, just the way he liked.  Zayn was attached to Niall like a leech and Cecile was gone.

The cold started to become more prominent as it seeped through the layers of blanket he had wrapped around himself.  He decided maybe he should be alone inside.

He rose up from where he was sat on the bench, walking over to enter inside his bedroom and slide the door closed behind himself.  He turned around to face the bedroom, and it now seemed bigger and overly spacious.  He’d lived in the same place for months now; why was he just _now_ realizing how unnecessarily big it was?

Harry called it a night as he threw himself, blankets and all, on his bed, ready to fall asleep, even though his eyes weren’t quite on board with that plan.  He remained awake in the dark bedroom, smoothing his hand up and down his bed sheets as he breathed in and out.  He thought about maybe buying new, red velvet bed sheets.  Or maybe purple.  People didn’t usually have purple velvet sheets.

He let out a huff as he rolled onto his back, eyes focused on the ceiling.  Even though the flat was unusually quiet, he was still thankful his mind wasn’t being as busy as it usually was.  He was genuinely calm now, as opposed to a week ago when he’d nearly lost his mind.

Eventually, probably an hour or so later, Harry’s eyes finally slipped shut and he got some of the sleep he’d been hoping for.  He was awoken however, when he felt his mattress shake beneath him, causing one of his eyes to open.

“Your front door was open, ya dummy,” Louis said as he crawled upon the bed next to Harry.  “Don’t worry.  I locked it.”

Harry’s eyes were half open now as he rolled over on his side, facing away from Louis as he let out a groan.  “Why are you here?”

He felt Louis flop down in the space next to him, before taking the time to shuffle his body under the duvet Harry was using, making sure he got nice and comfortable.

“I couldn’t stay in his room overnight,” Louis replied casually as he settled into the sheets.

Harry was brought out of his sleepy state for a moment as his eyebrows furrowed.  His voice came out deep and raspy, even though he was going for snippy and rude.  “So you just come over here because you don’t wanna spend the night at some guy’s house after hooking up with him?”

“You catch on fast,” Louis replied, his voice muffled against the pillow.

Harry huffed before turning around on the bed, moving to face Louis.  The boy’s eyes were already closed, but he was clearly wide awake.

“What happened to going to your own place?”

“Your place is closer to Eli’s,” Louis mumbled.

Harry nodded his head slowly as he pressed his lips together, before turning back around to face the other way.  He brought the duvet up to his chest and tried to fall back asleep, even with this mess of a traitor lying next to him.

His mouth decided it still wanted to speak, which he had no control over.

“I hope Eli’s good in bed,” he said.

Louis’ laugh rumbled from behind him, at first coming out in short chuckles, then proceeding to last longer than it needed to.  “You won’t believe.”

Harry bit his lip as he swallowed whatever was building up in his throat.  There were a few moments of silence in which Harry was sure Louis might’ve fallen asleep.  He still spoke anyway.

“Congratulations on getting to perform your own song, by the way,” he said, hoping this time Louis would catch the hostility in his tone.  “I was gonna congratulate you at the show, but I couldn’t find you.”

He felt Louis reach out and fluff at his hair a bit.  “You’re so sweet, Harry.  Thank you,” he replied.  “I actually owe you a lot for that,” he added, his voice growing smaller and less confident.  “Thanks.  Really.”

“Mhm,” Harry replied as he shut his eyes and snuggled himself deeper into the blankets.

Louis yawned and Harry felt the breath of his exhale on the back of his neck.

“Cover your mouth when you yawn.”

Louis giggled again, and this time it was becoming clear he was legitimately tired by how much he couldn’t stop laughing.  “Sir, are you mad about something?”

“No.”

“Can I spoon you?”

“Never.”

Fifteen more minutes passed before Harry realized Louis was asleep, and all he could hear were his deep breaths and the soft, faint sound that escaped his lips every time he exhaled.  Harry slowly turned around in his bed so as not to disturb the boy, and he was met with the calming visual of Louis fast asleep, actually pleasant instead of aggravating.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Harry whispered exhaustedly as he stared at the boy.  “Stop doing this to me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a doozy
> 
> i loved cecile too, this is just as hard for me as it is for you


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

Harry was half awake when he felt the strange sensation of some light, feathery substance being sprayed into his hand.  Even though his mind was still in a state of sleep and his eyes were closed, a part of his brain was alert and well aware of the fact that someone was spraying shaving cream in the palm of his hand.

He was even more awake when he felt a soft finger tickle his nose, along with the hushed sounds of Louis snickering from where he hovered over him.  Harry immediately stirred awake, and instead of smacking his nose and getting shaving cream all over his own face as Louis had probably expected him to, his palm collided with Louis’ face instead and sent shaving cream flying everywhere.

Harry started chuckling sleepily as Louis moved to wipe the shaving cream off of his face with the bottom of his shirt, clearly not feeling as teasing and devious as he was before.

Harry laughed louder as Louis winced from how hard the prank backfired on himself.

“You really thought you could prank me?  In my own home?”

“Harry, it’s really not funny,” Louis replied as he remained where he was on the side of Harry’s bed.  He kept his palms over his eyes as Harry continued to laugh almost uncontrollably.

“It’s not funny.  You seriously got shaving cream in my eyes,” Louis whined as he continued to press the heels of his palms against his sockets.

Harry suddenly sat up from where he was laid down in his bed, attempting to move Louis’ hands away from his face in order to see if he had red eyes.

His aura went from goofy to serious in a matter of seconds.  “Let me see,” Harry said as Louis’ hands remained over his eyes.  His chest heaved, and he almost looked like he was about to cry.

Harry pulled at Louis’ wrists to get him to budge.  “Louis, I’m sorry—“

Louis abruptly moved his hands away from his eyes, bursting into laughter as he held his stomach.  Harry blinked at him as he watched the boy smile amusedly.

“I got you to think I was really hurt, so I guess I still win,” Louis said as he pushed himself up from the bed and waltzed over to Harry’s bathroom.

“You’re not fucking funny, okay?” Harry replied with a groan as he pushed the duvet off of his body.  He slid down to the floor as he reached for the small towel on top of his mirror.  He stepped into the bathroom to hand the boy the towel so he could wipe off his face.

“How the hell did you know I was pranking you?  I could’ve sworn you were asleep,” Louis replied as he wiped away at his face.

Harry was used to the sight of Louis in the mornings—or half of the mornings—because ever since that night Harry had let Louis sleep in his bed after his hookup with Eli, Louis took that as his invitation to crash there whenever he wanted.  Harry wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, the fact that he gave Louis a place to escape to when he wanted to sneak out on his one night stands, but either way, he was going to accept it.  Louis made mornings fun and less routine-filled—he almost made Harry forget how much he hated mornings.

“You know what this means, right?” Louis asked as he tossed the towel in Harry’s face.

Harry caught it at the last moment, before the shaving cream could stain his face.  “What?”

Louis’ eyes wandered over to the side, and Harry already knew his mind was racing with some other devious plan.

“You have to get shaving cream on your face too.  It’s only fair.”

Harry scoffed as he walked back into his room to throw the towel in the bin.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Just accept that you got beat at your own game, Louis.”

“It’s a truce,” Louis nearly whined.

“No truces.”

He could hear the lingering silence from where Louis was in his bathroom as he kicked some of his clothes on the floor to one side.  He shrugged it off like a fool, not realizing he was giving Louis the perfect amount of time to plot his ambush.

Louis came running out of Harry’s bathroom with the shaving cream bottle aimed at him, although he was spraying it everywhere but on Harry.  Harry immediately reached for the bottle, a grin growing on his face as he tried to pry it out of Louis’ hands.

Louis didn’t let up one bit as he kept spraying the bottle wildly, Harry doing his best to dodge all of the mists.  Louis was always restless in the morning.

“Do you want _another_ face full of shaving cream?” Harry asked as he finally snatched the bottle from the boy, immediately positioning it in his direction with a giggle.

“No!” Louis nearly screamed, before taking off toward the living room with Harry not too far behind.

Harry chased him all the way to the couch, where the boy quickly became trapped and shoved Harry away with all his might, even as Harry successfully managed to spray a shaving cream beard on his face.

“Harry, I _just_ wiped my face!” Louis exclaimed as he wrestled for the nearly empty bottle of shaving cream between them.  Harry was too busy giggling at how silly Louis looked with the white fluffy beard that he wasn’t prepared for when Louis wiped shaving cream off of his own face and slapped it on to Harry’s cheek.  Harry gasped overdramatically as Louis started laugh, and soon the wrestle for the shaving cream bottle ended in both of them toppling over the side of the couch and ending up on the floor, centimeters away from Harry’s coffee table.

“Truce, _truce!_ ” Louis exclaimed as Harry braced himself over him.  “I quit,” he nearly panted, clearly out of breath.

Harry laughed as he looked down at the spectacle of Louis with shaving cream smeared all over his face, dampening some of his hair strands.  All because he decided it would be funny to pull a joke on Harry that morning.

Louis turned his head to the side as he started to giggle through heavy breaths.  “Stop laughing.”

Harry bit down on the corner of his bottom lip even as a grin forced its way out.  “You look funny.”

“ _You_ look funny,” Louis said, facing Harry again.  “With that giant spot of cream smacked on the side of your face.”

“You smacked me hard.”

“Figured you were kinky,” Louis replied with a smirk.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy as he felt the tips of Louis’ feet slightly brushing against his calves.  He couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t moved from this position yet.

“Why is it so hard for you to keep _anything_ PG?”

“Dunno,” Louis said with a shrug.  He brought his voice down to a quiet level.  “It’s just who I am.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Louis’ as they remained in that same position and the smug expression Louis had already been wearing began to fade into something more uncertain.  No matter how his facial expression changed, Harry kept staring at him, and he couldn’t stop.  His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue with light coming in from the giant windows of his living room, and no matter how long Harry stared into them, they never looked away.  They never gazed any place else, and all Harry could feel were Louis’ feet brushing against his calves, all he could hear was the hollow sound of the shaving cream bottle rolling away, all he could see was Louis, occupying his vision and beckoning him closer without even saying a word.

Harry caught himself rapidly, nearly scrambling to get off from on top of Louis and hitting his shin on the table in the process.  He winced in pain as Louis sat up.

“Fuck, I—“ Harry started, wincing one last time before quickly pushing himself up to his feet.  “I have class.”

“Oh,” Louis replied as he stood up as well.  Harry had already long vanished into his room to slip some shoes on for this “class” he had to get to.  “I guess I have to leave?”

Harry came back out of his room with slides on his feet and his unzipped book bag hanging off of his shoulder.  “Uh—you can stay here…if you want.  I don’t care,” he replied as he walked across the room to get to his front door.  He reached for the door knob before pausing for a second.  “I…just—bye,” he said before leaving out.

As his feet took him down the hallway of his floor, he was aware he had no idea where he was about to go, and that he’d left his apartment with someone who didn’t even live there, but he had to get the hell out of there.

All Harry could think was _no_.

He wanted to pull his hair out with frustration for how pathetic he was being.  Nothing even happened.  Nothing was _going_ to happen, yet here he was, stressing himself out to no end over such a trivial thing.

Except it wasn’t trivial.

Something had overcome Harry for a moment; something scary that he hoped would never take over him again.  Never had he been hypnotized in such a way just by the sight of some other person’s eyes.  Louis wasn’t even _doing_ anything; just laying there, watching as Harry’s mind made a complete 180 turn around and started to think that maybe he would actually give this a go.  He genuinely almost did it.

He wondered if Louis noticed.

He hoped for the sake of his own pride that the boy hadn’t, because it would probably just fuel his ego even more.  Louis was oblivious to many of the things going on between him and Harry, so Harry figured he shouldn’t worry too much about Louis sensing anything from him.

It was _too fast_.

He’d literally just broken up with Cecile the week before, so for him to do… _whatever_ he was contemplating doing to Louis that morning, was out of order and borderline disrespectful.  He needed time to recover from Cecile, didn’t he?  That was how breakups worked.

He wasn’t lying when he’d said he had a class per se, because he _did_ have one—it just didn’t start for another hour and a half.  He spent that time camping out in his car, turning the music up loud so he wouldn’t have to hear his intruding conscience.

In the actual class that he had, he arrived early as usual and spent the first few minutes reorganizing his binder that had gotten far too messy over the course of the year.  It was the beginning of a brand new semester, so Harry wanted to rid himself of the mess he’d made of some of his folders and notebooks.

He listened to nothing but the professor once the lecture got started, quickly deciding that he shouldn’t have been focused on anything else besides his studies anyway.  That was what he had come to college for in the first place; his _studies_.  He had started the year off strong with little to no distractions, and that was how he planned to end it.  All these other miniscule happenings were just bumps, conveniently placed to divert his attention.

He was going to have a productive year of studying, sleeping, and drinking sparkling water.  Right there, in class as he jotted down notes at the speed of lightning, he vowed to himself that there would be no more visitors in his home.  No more distractions.

He realized he couldn’t commit to such a vow when he found himself alone in his apartment on a Saturday night, once again.  The sun was just starting to set and he could barely feel his arm from how long he’d been laying on it.  He flipped through channels with the remote, using the arm that wasn’t numb to fulfill the deed.  Nothing on television seemed to catch his attention as he blinked boredly at the screen.  He didn’t even know what he liked to watch anymore.  Did he even _like_ to watch T.V.?

He pulled out his phone as a last resort (well, first resort) and tapped Louis’ contact name.  He held the phone over his face as he remained laid on his back, squinting at their last conversation.  It had been about whether Twizzlers or gummy worms were better, and Harry couldn’t remember why he’d even taken part in such a conversation with how stubborn Louis was being.

He moved his thumbs to type out a text for the boy.

 **Harry:** _I’m bored_

Louis texted back within a minute.

 **Louis:** _im at work_

 **Harry:** _Then how are u texting me_

 **Louis:** _ur right! i’ll stop texting u now_

 **Harry:** _Wait no_

He stared at his phone screen as he waited a full five minutes for Louis to text him back again.  He let out a sigh when he realized he wasn’t going to get a reply, and in that same moment, his phone somehow slipped from his hands and landed right on his face.  He let it remain there for a moment as he registered the pain from the device hitting him right on his nose.  He let it be a metaphor for his life at the moment.

He didn’t even bother texting Zayn, because he knew the boy would be with Niall, and he was also quite offended at how the boy hadn’t reached out to him in days.  It used to be rare to go a week without seeing Zayn, but now it seemed like this was going to become normal.

He thought about Cecile as he stared blankly at the television screen up above.  It wasn’t like he hated her guts or anything; he never did.  He actually quite liked her as a person.  She was funny and easy to be around for the most part.  She definitely gave Harry someone to talk to when he had nobody.  She _always_ answered his calls and texts, no matter how busy she was.

He wasn’t an idiot; he knew they had been close.  Cecile wasn’t just an object that he used to parade around like some new watch.  He genuinely valued Cecile when they were together.  It’s just that now he realized he didn’t have feelings for her in a romantic way.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he sank deeper into his thoughts.

If he took away the kissing and hugging from their relationship, he was left with what they were actually meant to be.  Friends.

He felt bad about how he was currently not talking to her at all, even though he was aware he was supposed to be hurt and broken from being cheated on.  He still didn’t quite know how to feel about that.  The fact that Cecile blatantly cheated on him with a member of the band that practiced at his house was still _something_ , even though he didn’t like her in that way anyway.  He just couldn’t bring himself to care.  He was a bit grateful, if he was being honest.

 

~*~

 

Harry hadn’t been to a Red Rogue gig in a while because he had been trying his best to distance and convince himself he had not adapted to seeing them every day.  When his intense boredom drove him to up and attend one anyway, it was under a giant, sealed tent that locked in heat so that everybody wasn’t freezing cold. The gig was still technically outside, because the floor beneath them was grassed, but the tent was so closed off they might as well have been inside a building.

Different musicians and bands were playing up on the platform at the center of everything as people ate at decorated tables with ribbons on the backs of the chairs.  Harry had no idea of what event was taking place, as he often did, and he was also sure he hadn’t been invited. He didn’t think it mattered, however, because he considered himself part of The Red Rogue’s “helping crew” or whatever, so he could get in anytime he wanted.

He slipped his jacket off as he spotted Zayn stood next to one of the round white tables, fixing up Niall’s blazer and straightening out the cuffs.  Some lady was singing up on stage, the melodies of her voice mixed with the moderate murmurs of the vicinity.

“It’s fine, babe,” he heard Niall say as he approached them, pulling one chair out to sit in.

“Okay, I’m just—“ Zayn started, before flicking a tiny piece of lint off of Niall’s shoulder.  “I’m just nervous for you, is all.”

“Just because this is a bit more of an uppity crowd than we’re used to, doesn’t mean we need to panic,” Niall chuckled as he smoothed his hands down Zayn’s arms.

Even though no one could see his eyes under his sunglasses, Harry blinked boredly at the fact that they hadn’t even noticed he’d arrived.

“Rich snobs just annoy me,” Zayn said as his hands met Niall’s and their fingers laced together.  “They’re so judgy.”

“If they don’t like us, joke’s on them,” Niall replied.  “We’re getting paid either way.”

“Hi,” Harry said from where he was sat, causing Niall and Zayn to shift their heads slightly to the side in order to finally realize he was there.

Zayn’s eyebrows rose as he immediately came over to pull out a seat next to Harry.

“Holy shit, I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said upon sitting down.

“Yeah, where’ve you been mate?” Niall asked.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he crossed his ankle over his thigh.  “I’ve been right here.  I haven’t gone anywhere.”

It wasn’t like they’d needed to use Harry’s place as a rehearsal area anymore.  They’d probably found an actual legit place to practice now, so they didn’t need Harry anymore.  He would admit, it stung just a bit, but he was going to get over it somehow.

Zayn stared at him for a moment, an unsure look on his face as he rubbed his palms together.  “Well uh…maybe later...if you—“

“We’re about to go on,” Niall interrupted, nervousness suddenly washing over him.  He leaned down to press a kiss against Zayn’s forehead.  “Give me a word of good luck?”

Zayn smiled as his eyes wandered down to Niall’s lips.  “You’ll do good.  You always do good.”

“And you’re always so sweet,” Niall murmured before sealing their lips together momentarily.  Once he pulled back, he was off, lost in the sea of people and servers with trays held high, along with more snobby looking people.

So they were going on, and Harry hadn’t even seen Louis once.

Zayn turned back to Harry with a fond look on his face.  “He’s so—“

“Trust me, Zayn.  Whatever sappy adjective you can use for him right now, I’ve probably already heard it.”

“Yikes, what’s got you so snippy?” Zayn asked as he rested his elbow on the table.  A group of young looking girls and boys hesitantly took the empty seats at their table, their eyes lingering on Zayn and Harry and their lack of casually formal attire for a moment.

Zayn’s features softened after a moment as he looked at Harry.  “Oh yeah.  I heard about Cecile.  I’m so sorry.”

Harry pursed his lips for a moment, trying to figure out how to properly respond to that.  “It’s fine.  I’m not mad about that anymore.”

“Don’t stress over her, Harry.  She’s just a—“

“Don’t call her names,” Harry said, lifting his finger in the air.  “I promise I’m not mad.  I don’t want to call her names.”

“It’s not good to bury your emotions,” Zayn replied, slowly shaking his head.

Harry let out a chuckle as he moved his hand over his chin.  “I’m not burying my emotions.”

“We’re talking about your girlfriend.  Of six months.  Cheated on you.  With a guy who’s backstage right now, getting ready to perform in front of you.”

“What, do you want me to flip a table and challenge Marcus to a duel?” Harry asked.

He heard the announcement of their band getting ready to head up on stage as Zayn laughed halfheartedly at his joke.  It was clear he was worried about Harry’s lack of concern for his recent break up, and Harry wished he’d just let it go.

Once the boys were up on stage, Liam introduced Louis as the band’s official songwriter yet again, and just like the first time, the boy blushed.  Harry figured they’d done this at all of the shows ever since.

They started off with “No Control”, and Harry realized it sounded better every time they performed it.  The audience seemed to like it as well, even though they didn’t seem like the “jump around and wildly bob their heads” type.  Harry didn’t even try to wonder how they got such a fancy gig like this.

Harry fully expected them to play a cover song next, but once they started, he quickly realized he’d never heard the song they were playing in his life.

Harry leaned forward in his chair in order for Zayn to hear him.  “What song is this?”

Zayn bobbed his head to the music as he tilted his head in Harry’s direction.  “It’s called ‘Clouds’.  Louis wrote it.  I thought you knew that.”

“How could I know that?” Harry nearly screamed over the music.

“Huh?” Zayn replied.

Harry shook his head before slumping back in his seat, thoroughly displeased by the magnificent song filling his eardrums and the fact that this was his first time hearing it.  The new song also confirmed the fact that they had gotten a new place to rehearse.  He guessed it just wasn’t important enough to let Harry know they wouldn’t need his services anymore.

The rest of their slot consisted of cover songs, and then they were gone, and Harry was feeling less eager to congratulate them on anything.  The slight glimpse he got of Eli maneuvering his way over to the platform sealed the deal for him.

When he was offered a glass of sparkling cider as he was making way toward the exit, he figured he’d stay just a little while longer to drink it, which, naturally, turned out to be a mistake.  Liam spotted him from across the venue, immediately tapping Marcus who was stood next to him, disassembling his drum set.

He called Harry over so loudly that it would’ve been a blatant lie if he claimed he didn’t hear him.  Harry was hesitant in his footsteps as he walked over, hopping up on the now darkened platform where the lights were no longer shining on center stage.

“What’s up?” Harry asked upon approaching them.  He swished around the liquid in his glass as he darted his eyes to the side and found Eli, his back rested against the wall as he conversed with Niall and Zayn.  Louis was nowhere to be seen.

“Dude, I am so sorry,” Marcus immediately said as he held his hands out toward Harry.

“You’re fine,” Harry replied, before taking a sip out of his glass.

“No, he’s _not_ fine,” Liam said, before pressing his index finger and thumb into the back of Marcus’ neck.  “He’s a little shit is what he is.  We apologize on behalf of him, Harry.”

Marcus stressfully rubbed his palms down his face before placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.  “I’m a little shit, okay?  Things just got outta hand, and—and she was right _there_ , and—“

Harry moved Marcus’ hand away from his shoulder, freeing himself of the contact.  “Marcus.  I don’t care.  Stop apologizing.”

Marcus clasped both of his hands over his mouth in a dramatic fashion.  “I just feel so bad, dude.  Oh my god, I’m…”

Harry sufficiently tuned his words out as he watched Louis bound over to where Zayn and Niall were chatting with Eli, just a few feet to the left of them.  He looked cheery and light as a feather as he deliberately squeezed himself in between Niall and Eli (in order to be next to Eli, Harry was guessing).

Harry couldn’t hear all the details of what they were talking about, but he definitely understood that the conversation consisted of Eli talking about how great they were and kissing their asses sufficiently.  Harry wondered what this boy’s motive was.  What exactly was he trying to get at?  And why did it have to involve Louis?

The problem was, Eli didn’t even glance in Harry’s direction once as Louis hooked an arm around his waist.  It sort of hit him, the fact that Eli wasn’t doing this just to spite Harry.  He probably didn’t even know Harry was there.  He was probably just…doing it.  Which made everything even worse.

Harry blew a sharp breath out from between his lips as he turned back to face Marcus and Liam in front of him, both of which were still talking to him and begging for forgiveness.  Harry continued to shrug off their apologies and suggestions for how to make it up to him, and eventually Niall and Zayn came over and wedged their way into the conversation.  Louis stayed back.

He didn’t look at them directly, but he could see them out of the corner of his eye, and they were _close_.  Harry didn’t even know why this was taking him by slight surprise, because Louis literally broke into his home to let Harry know he’d banged Eli before.  It was just the fact that this was happening right in front of his eyes, only a few feet away from him.

He focused his eyes directly on them for a split second, and oh—they were kissing.  Well, more like sucking the shit out of each other’s faces, and Harry was over it.

He tuned back in to whatever Liam was saying for just a moment.  “…and just the other day I was telling Marcus he should bake a pie to make it up—“

“I have to go,” Harry interrupted, far too exhausted to give a half assed excuse for leaving.

He turned around and took the step down from the platform before placing his glass in a server’s tray as they flew by.  He was _not_ going to stay here for this.

He went to the table where he had left his navy blue denim jacket and slid it on as he scanned his eyes for the exit of the tent.

He shook his head at nothing as he started on his feet.

So Louis hadn’t noticed.  He hadn’t recognized the split second of contemplation on Harry’s face from when he was braced over him, quickly getting lost in the seas of his eyes.  He hadn’t sensed anything, just as Harry had thought.  It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Harry was right though.  He was _always_ right.

Louis hadn’t picked up on the fact that Harry had wanted to kiss him.

That was great, anyway, because it was the main thing that had been keeping Harry up at night for a while now.  He didn’t want Louis to know, so this was perfect.

He bit down on his bottom lip as he entered back out into the cold, un-tented air of the night.  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he slumped his back against the outside of the venue.  He could hear the next act starting up their performance, the muffled sound of acoustic melodies attempting to calm him.  It wasn’t working.

He took one hand out of his pocket to push his sunglasses up into his hair for no real reason.  He stuffed his hand in his pocket again, grinding his teeth together and trying to figure out what the _fuck_ he was doing with his life.

Eli hadn’t looked in his direction condescendingly even once, which clearly meant he was genuinely into Louis, and Harry didn’t have a problem with that.  Harry didn’t have any power over Louis; he wasn’t going to control who he could and couldn’t hook up with.  Or date.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed as he tilted his chin up to look at the sky.  He could hear the claps and murmurs of excitement from inside the tent as his thoughts started to grow thunderously loud.

Maybe this was the universe telling him to just drop it.  This thing… _whatever_ it was, was clearly just not going to happen with Louis.  He’d tried and he’d failed.  This was the sign he had been asking for the other night.

He began to wonder why he even considered trying this out.  Louis didn’t feel _anything_.  Louis wouldn’t even glance in his direction if his life depended on it.

“What are you doing out here?” Louis asked, his soft voice cutting into all the noise in Harry’s head.  Immediately, Harry could hear nothing but the boy’s words, coming at him in soft, gentle hums.

“Huh?” Harry asked, a bit frazzled by not realizing Louis even approaching him.  He was wearing a burgundy sweater that gave him little paws, his signature gloves (except they were leather this time), along with tight black chinos, and Harry had planned on complimenting his outfit until he got hit with that storm.

He shook his head back to life once he came to terms with the fact that Louis was indeed in front of him, even though he hadn’t been just seconds before.

“Where’s Eli?” was the first thing he thought to ask.

Louis grinned lopsidedly.  “He had to leave, but why are you out here alone?  Come back in,” Louis urged, reaching out and grabbing one of Harry’s hands.

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked down at where Louis was now gripping his left hand.  He watched as Louis lifted it in the air and waved it around.

“Let’s dance a little.  The band that’s performing right now is awesome,” Louis said.

Words didn’t even come out of Harry’s mouth as he shook his head, looking down at his feet.

“Wow.  Way to be boring,” Louis replied as he stroked his thumb across Harry’s hand.

Harry let out a very quiet giggle that lasted half a second before looking back up at Louis.  “I’m not being boring.”

Louis chuckled lightly, little cold patches of air floating from his mouth with every huff.  “Then come dance with me,” he said, this time pulling Harry in by his hand and causing him to stumble forward one or two steps.

Harry caught himself as best he could, even though he couldn’t help the way his eyes’ first instinct once they got that close to Louis’ face was to dart down to his lips.  Once he looked back up at the boy’s eyes and took a step back, he knew he was fucked, because now Louis was staring at his lips too.

His mind quickly went through different ways he could backtrack or change the subject, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“So are we gonna do this, or what?” Louis asked, now looking back up at Harry’s eyes.

A nervous sound escaped Harry’s mouth that definitely couldn’t have been classified as a laugh, even though that was what it was supposed to be.

“Do what?” Harry asked, realizing their hands were still together and detangling them in order to fix his sunglasses that were in his hair.

“That’s the second time you’ve tried to kiss me.”

Harry internally went into panic mode, hoping it wouldn’t be too obvious on the outside.

So he _did_ notice, he was just good at acting like he didn’t.  The little brat.

“I, uh…I don’t—“

“Look, Harry.  I’m not stupid,” Louis said, taking one step forward.  “I understand.  Sometimes I wanna kiss you too.”

Harry’s lips remained parted as he held eye contact with Louis for a moment.  Were they really talking about this?  What steps had Harry taken in life to come to this point?  He was experiencing so much embarrassment and fluster that he could barely _breathe_.

“You wanna kiss me sometimes?” Harry asked, his eyes big and lost.

Louis shrugged as a sweet grin grew on his lips.  He glanced down at Harry’s mouth for another moment.  “Yeah.  You have nice lips.  I fantasize about it sometimes.”

“You fantasize about kissing me?”

“Well…if you wanna keep it PG,” Louis replied with a smirk.

Harry was sure his cheeks were on fire right now, and he was certain Louis was well aware of it as his face grew more and more smug.  This couldn’t be happening.  No _way_ was this happening right now.

“What about you?” Louis asked, gesturing at Harry.

Harry rubbed his palm against the back of his neck as he concentrated on Louis’ chest.  He couldn’t even feel the cold anymore—his body was engulfed by so much warmth he was nearly sweating.  “Um…I.”

“Harry, it’s okay,” Louis assured him.  He shifted his head down to where Harry’s eyes were concentrated, intent to catch the boy’s eye contact and bring his head back up to look him in the face.  His tone was gentle and knowing.  “It’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it seem.”

Louis was wrong, because in fact, it was the biggest deal he’d ever had to deal with.  He’d never done anything like this before, and Louis was being so nonchalant about it.  Maybe if he’d gotten a heads up about the fact that they were going to have this conversation, he wouldn’t have been so discombobulated.

“Maybe…I dunno,” Harry started.  Every time he tried to move his eyes somewhere else, Louis’ face was there, making sure he didn’t escape.  “I dunno, I just…Yeah.  I guess.  But I fantasize about kissing pretty much every other person I see, so…it’s not a big deal.”

Louis’ lips quirked up on one corner.  “Really?  You fantasize about kissing every other person huh?”

“Yeah, uh,” Harry started.  “I guess you somehow got wound up into that mix.”  He tried to ignore the fact that he was still looking at Louis’ eyes and Louis was now focused solely on his lips.  It made him speak more carefully with the knowledge that his mouth was being watched.  “Sorry for uh, trying to kiss you?  I don’t usually…” He tried to ignore how Louis was inching in closer to him, as though he wasn’t even speaking.  “Um…I…”  Louis’ cold breaths were starting to become more prominent on Harry’s tongue, and he stopped trying to talk altogether as his eyes fell to Louis’ lips as well, and his mind became a jumble of nothingness as he got lost in the feeling of actually kissing someone he wasn’t dating.

Louis’ hands were settled on the back of his neck, toying with the hair at his nape as he sucked Harry’s lips between his, tenderly and warm.  Harry wasn’t even sure if it was still winter with how much his body temperature had risen in the past few minutes.

Harry’s hands came up to brace themselves on Louis’ shoulders, lightly gripping on the material of his sweater as he moved his lips against Louis’.  As Louis continued to breathe warmth into Harry’s lungs, press his dainty fingers into Harry’s skin at his neck and his wrist, gently push his body into Harry’s as though he had anywhere else to go but the outside wall of the tent, Harry noticed the clear difference between kissing Louis and kissing Cecile (or any girl he had ever kissed for that matter)—this was fucking amazing.

Barely anything was even happening and Harry already couldn’t get enough.  He could tell Louis was taking it easy on him because of the fact that he hadn’t even inserted his tongue anywhere yet.

Harry didn’t even know if a world existed around them anymore.  Did time exist?  Did anything really ever exist besides Louis?  Harry wasn’t sure at the moment.

Louis grew more engaged as well, and a tiny sound escaped his lips that made Harry pull back in surprise.  In half a second, his hands slid down to Louis’ lower back, jerking him forward and pulling him in tight, and Louis’ arms came up to wrap around Harry’s neck as he nearly fell into him, burying his face in his shoulder.  They held each other incredibly tight, resembling two halves piecing themselves together for the first time.

Harry’s whisper came out stuttered and shaky against Louis’ cheek as he held him.  “Holy shit.”

Louis immediately pulled back, his arms braced on Harry’s shoulders for a moment as he stared back at him.  His eyes were helpless and confused, as opposed to Harry’s that were dilated and big.

Harry had no idea of what was going on; he just knew that they had kissed, then they hugged the daylights out of each other, and now they were staring at each other, and Louis almost looked scared.

“I have to go,” Harry breathed out, and Louis’ hands slid off of Harry’s shoulders just as Harry’s arms left Louis’ waist.  He stood exactly where he was, despite the fact that he just claimed he had to go.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again.  “I have to be somewhere.”

Harry’s feet finally started to move, and he stepped out of Louis’ way before beginning to shuffle backwards.

Louis lifted one hand to wave at Harry, even as he continued to look thoroughly confused.  “Goodnight.”

Harry turned around and offered Louis an indolent wave of farewell before starting on the walk toward his car.  The walk may or may not have turned into a bit of a jog.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

Harry set his pencil against notebook paper as he sat with his back against the tree.

It had begun to warm up just a little; being that it was that time of year where it would be nearly snowing on Monday and on Friday people could’ve been dying of heat stroke.  He kept his eyes down, strictly focused on his notebook as he sat on the grass, determined to actually be productive and dwell on something that _didn’t_ have to do with…Louis.

Of course, trying so hard to remind himself not to think of Louis only resulted in him thinking of Louis, which wasn’t as _bad_ as it used to be.  He still got work done as he reminisced over that _beautiful_ night, when he’d freaked Louis the fuck out and literally ran home afterward.

Naturally, Harry wasn’t too eager to reach out or communicate with him after that night, not only because he was embarrassed beyond compare, or because he was afraid of confronting the fact that he’d actually kissed a boy for the first time and this was completely new for him, but because Louis had not reached out to him first.  He vowed to himself that he was _done_ reaching out to the boy first.  If Louis wanted to see him, he would express it himself.  He hadn’t slept over at Harry’s flat in quite a while, and Harry just had to pray that it wasn’t because he’d been so weirded out by that…crazy night.  He hoped it was because the boy was working a lot, rehearsing, or having sex.  He would accept any of the three.  Hell, he would even accept Louis sleeping at Eli’s place, as long as the boy wasn’t dwelling on their kiss and reflecting on how horrible he probably thought it was.

He found himself in a hard position after two hours had passed of him sitting in the sunny breeze of outside, because he ran out of coursework to do.  He now had free time, and he had become accustomed to how his mind’s default response to having free time was to over think and worry.  He was pretty sure he’d never overanalyzed simple situations this much in his life.  He didn’t worry even half this much after his and Cecile’s first kiss.

He contemplated what he should do as he sat there.  A few weeks before, the easy option would’ve been to text something mushy to Cecile and receive something equally as mushy in return, but he was aware he couldn’t do that.

One would think that after realizing he never really had feelings for his ex, he would be ready to move on and drop her like a fly, but he couldn’t.  Even though he had been the one cheated on, he couldn’t help but feel bad about not talking to her at _all_ anymore, as though they were never even that important to begin with.  Cecile was probably taking all of this a lot harder, and Harry couldn’t even spare her a text.  She was probably thinking about him as much as he was thinking about Louis.  Which was a lot.

Harry shook his head at himself as he stared blankly at his notebook.  He couldn’t help but feel extremely pathetic about everything.  Louis was probably getting a blowjob in some corner of the library, having long forgotten about the fact that he and Harry had ever even kissed, and here Harry was, squeezing the pencil in his hand and struggling not to obsess over it too much.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if any other person had taken the liberty of shooting him a text to see if he was alive, since he’d been keeping himself so separated lately.  He found no new messages, and blew out a sigh as he let his head rest against the tree trunk.

He was genuinely getting tired of this soulmate bullshit.  It didn’t even make sense.  How could a person not _ever_ think to text him first for once, let alone reach out to him in any way, and be his soulmate?  He imagined soulmates to be more attached—and less willing to sleep with other people.

As much as Harry was certain he very much enjoyed the kiss they had that night, he still wouldn’t classify himself as someone who had genuine feelings for Louis.  He didn’t know him enough.  He couldn’t have feelings for someone he barely even knew, right?

Harry’s phone vibrated in his hand, causing him to pick his head back up and glance down at his screen.

Louis.

 **Louis:** _lunch???_

A miniscule grin grew on Harry’s face as he prepared to type out a reply for him.

 **Harry:** _Ok???_

 **Louis:** _ur buying_

Harry rolled his eyes as he began to stuff his notebooks and folders back into his bag, wondering how he even put up with this boy.

Harry tried not to let his nerves get the best of him as he pulled up to Louis’ dorm building, where the boy told him to pick him up.  He kept repeating to himself that it probably wasn’t as big a deal for Louis as it was for him.  Louis kissed everybody.  Louis was used to that stuff.  He had _not_ been hung up on the kiss for even a fraction of how long Harry had been.

He successfully got himself to relax as he waited in his car—and all the calm collectiveness immediately vanished away once he spotted Louis waltzing over from the entrance of the building.  He was wearing an oversized sweater with roses on it, those damn fingerless gloves, and his jeans were cuffed at the ankles.

Harry also realized he’d begun paying more attention to his outfits lately.  He had no idea why.

He immediately pushed his sunglasses over his eyes once the nervousness washed over him, and he brought his hand up to his mouth to start biting on his nails, before remembering that biting his nails would be a disgusting thing to do.  He wiped his hands on his jeans repeatedly, because he’d gotten a weird feeling they were getting sweaty.  His breaths grew shorter and less rhythmic as Louis approached, and he focused his attention on counting to five with every inhale and exhale.

“Why are you counting?” Louis asked upon opening the passenger door.

Harry mentally cursed himself for forgetting that he was supposed to be counting in his _head_.  He brought his hand up toward his head with intent to pull his hair out before settling it back on his lap.

“I was just…It’s this thing I do,” he said, before changing the radio station for no real reason.  He could sense Louis’ eyes on him as he slid in the seat, and he knew he had that look of amusement on his face from how flustered Harry was.  Harry kept talking in order to let the moment pass.  “So where are we going?”

Louis kicked his feet up on the dash casually, and Harry didn’t say a word.

“Wherever you want, since you’re buying.”  He looked pointedly at Harry, his back resting on the armrest as he remained sufficiently reclined.  It seemed like he was expecting Harry to do something, and was severely disappointed.

“What?” Harry asked.

Louis knit his eyebrows together in confusion.  “You’re not gonna scold me for this?  Lying like this?  Getting dirty marks from the bottom of my shoes on your window?”

Harry laughed nervously before playing with the ring on his index finger.  “I don’t…really care—“

“As someone who once kicked me out of their home for sitting on top of the counter, I think you _do_ care,” Louis said as he sat up.  “Get mad at me.  Get sassy.  It gets me off.”

Harry let out a genuine giggle in response as he put the car in drive.  His body relaxed a little as he started down the street.  “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“What’s wrong with _you_?” Louis asked, laughing as well.  “Let’s not do the weird thing.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow up.  “What weird thing?”

Louis motioned with his hands as he spoke.  “The thing where I kiss you and you get all flustered and weird.  Well, not the flustered thing.  I kinda like when your cheeks are red, like they are now.”

Harry kept his eyes dead set on the road as he tried to regulate his cheek color.  “’M not blushing.”

“Sure you’re not,” Louis replied.  “But don’t be weird.  It was a kiss.”

“Not being weird,” Harry said.  “You brought it up, not me.  I was just thinking about food, and…getting to eat stuff.”

“And yet you still haven’t picked a place to eat as you wander down the street,” Louis teased.

“Shut up,” Harry laughed, before making an abrupt right turn into a sit-in burger place.  “I’ve chosen.”

 

~*~

 

“Hadn’t even realized you’d picked me up with a piece of junk,” Louis said as he walked alongside Harry, holding his to-go cup in his hand.  “Princes are to be picked up in chariots, and chariots only.”

“What are you—“ Harry asked, before realizing they were about to reach his car.  “Are you talking about the damages on my car that _you_ caused?”

Louis let out a chuckle into his right hand.  “It looks horrible.  The light is just like, dragging on the floor.  Thought you would’ve fixed it or something, with how much you were freaking out.”

“I’d actually forgotten about it,” Harry said.  “Hadn’t even realized it was dangling off of the car until now.”

They stopped in front of Harry’s car, Louis squatting down to take a closer look at the damaged part of Harry’s vehicle.  He looked up and smirked at Harry.  “I know an easy fix for this.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, knowing that whatever “easy fix” he had was going to cost him an arm and a leg.

Contrary to what he had thought, what Louis had in mind didn’t even cost a dime—only a fifteen minute drive back to Louis’ dorm so that the boy could run in and come back with the best fixer upper known to man: duct tape.

“My car is going to look _so_ nice with duct tape plastered on the side of it,” Harry commented as he sat on the ground next to Louis, who squatted as he tried to tape up the tragically dangling piece.

Louis stuck his tongue out as he wrapped another messy layer of gray tape over the area.  “Shut up.  I’m trying to help _you_.

Harry flicked at a pebble on the ground, looking around and noticing how the sun had started to go down and he hadn’t even noticed.  The sky was purple in some areas and orange in others, and the sounds of cars zooming past only added a serene feeling to it all.  The view of Louis, eyes concentrated on the vehicle as his small fingers continued to wrap tape, helped to calm Harry as well.  Their time spent together had gone so nicely once he started to relax a bit, and he didn’t even know why he’d been so nervous.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Harry said.  “But thank you.”

Louis wiped his hands off on his pants once he found that the piece was securely taped up, and he gave Harry a warm grin.  “Well.  Anything to help someone who’s sad.”  He stood up and looked down at Harry, who stared up at him with wide, puzzled eyes.

“I’m not _sad_.”

Louis extended a hand outward in order to help him up, which Harry hesitantly accepted.  “I heard about what happened between you and Cecile.  Is that true, or were the boys just fucking with me?”

Harry shook his head, retracting his hand from Louis’ as he pushed his sunglasses off of his eyes and up into his hair.  “No—It’s true, but.  I’m not sad.  I’m fine.”

Louis looked into his eyes for a moment, a serious tone in his features that Harry didn’t know how to decipher.  He stared back at him as well, thinking that maybe this would be the moment that caused Louis to realize a certain _something_.  Now that he knew for sure that Cecile was completely out of the way, maybe he would start seeing Harry in a new light.  He hoped the optimism wasn’t showing on his face as they held each other’s gaze.

Louis shrugged his shoulders before opening up the passenger door of Harry’s vehicle.  “We all feel really bad about it.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on the empty space in front of him where Louis once stood, before he let out a tired exhale and shuffled his feet toward the driver’s seat.

“You guys shouldn’t feel bad,” Harry said, for probably the thousandth time in one week, as he started up his car.  “It’s life.”

“I dunno, I’d be pretty fucking pissed if I caught my boyfriend cheating on me,” Louis replied as he kicked his feet up on the dashboard again.

Harry looked at him in his peripheral vision as he veered out of the parking lot.  “You—you have a boyfriend?”  If he held his breath for just a second, he was glad Louis would never know.

“No, but hypothetically speaking,” Louis said.  “If I _were_ to have one, and he cheated on me, I’d probably rip his head off.”

Harry let out half a laugh that consisted of slight relief and sincere amusement, his eyes concentrated on the road ahead.  “Violence isn’t the answer, you know that right?”

“Yes, but in some cases it’s justifiable.  Some, rare cases.”

“Yeah, _rare_ like your partner cheating on you.  That’s very _rare_.”

Louis’ body turned to face Harry more directly, the side of his head rested on his fist.  “Are you saying that cheating is common?”

“Well,” Harry started, pursing his lips for a moment.  “It happens a lot.  _I_ would never cheat, but a lot of people do.”

“No _wonder_ you’re not up in arms about Marcus right now,” Louis said.  “You _expect_ this kind of thing.”

Harry knit his eyebrows together as his lips parted.  “No.  That’s not the reason.”

“Either you have low expectations for relationships in the first place, or you didn’t really like Cecile.  Those are the only explanations for why you’re so nonchalant about what happened.”

Harry’s eyes were fixed on the curve of his wheel once they were stopped at a red light, and he felt Louis’ eyes carving a hole into the side of his head.  He had no idea of what to say at this point, because of all the people that had approached him and uttered their apologies about the whole ordeal, Louis was the only one who looked deeper into the way Harry was reacting, cracking the code without breaking a sweat.

“You _didn’t_ like her, did you?” Louis asked, his voice exceedingly soft amidst of the silence of the car.

Harry’s mouth opened as he looked down at his palms, not quite sure of whether he should go ahead and admit it out loud, or continue this façade that he’d been trying to run far away from for the past few weeks.

“Of course I _liked_ her,” Harry said slowly.  “Just…I guess not in that special kind of way.  Seeing her with Marcus didn’t break my heart.”

“Wait—you _saw_ them?” Louis asked, his tone now full of amusement.  Harry turned and faced him with narrowed eyes, annoyed at the fact that he was mocking him.  “With your own _eyes_?  God, this is getting good!  Ugh, I wish I was there.”

“Quick question,” Harry said as he continued driving.

“What?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

 

~*~

 

Neon yellow was dragged across the lines of Harry’s notebook as he spent time before class highlighting what he was pretty sure was important.  So far, it seemed as though he’d highlighted an entire paragraph, which would probably become a bit of an issue in the future.

Students were starting to fill up the lecture hall as he kept steady eyes upon his notes.  He was aware that this would usually be the time where Zayn would waltz in and put his stuff down next to Harry, talking his ear off about something trivial he and Niall did the day before, but that wasn’t the way things were anymore.  If Harry was being honest, he didn’t even think Zayn was going to come to class today—he was probably opting to actually _be_ with Niall, rather than come to class and talk about him.

Harry understood.  Zayn had been pining after Niall for what seemed like decades, and now that he had him, he was going to soak up every moment with him as best as he could.  The force put into their relationship was strong from both sides, because both of them had clear intentions of what they wanted and simply acted upon those intentions.  It was simple with them, and Harry wondered why things couldn’t be that simple for everyone.  Why did Zayn and Niall get off so well from the start, with no hardships, no animosity—just pure adoration and happiness from the very beginning?  It wasn’t fair.

He was pulled out of his whiny thoughts when someone spoke to him.

“Harry.  Just the guy I was looking for,” he heard that snarky voice say from above him.  For a moment, he thought about keeping his eyes trained down on his notebook out of pure bitterness, but he knew it would only make Eli think he’d gotten the best of him.

“What?” is what Harry said, eyes coming up to stare in the face of the only boy at the university who could irk his soul more than Louis.

He didn’t seem to sense the hostility Harry was putting out as he rested one of his palms on the table.  “Have you seen Louis?”

As much as Harry would’ve liked to act like Eli couldn’t get any reaction from him, that mere question was what did it.  Harry slowly closed his notebook as he looked Eli dead in his sharp brown eyes.

“Louis doesn’t like you.”

Eli blinked at him for a moment, seemingly unimpressed by Harry’s sudden burst of pettiness.  He rolled his eyes as he let out a nice, fake laugh, before leaning his body down so that he was hunched over Harry at the table.

“Whatever you say,” he started, his voice low.  “Although the way he comes over to my place almost every night suggests otherwise.”

Harry didn’t let the words faze him, instead setting his jaw tight as he kept solid eye contact with the boy.

“If you think that equates to him having actual feelings for you, then you’re probably gonna be let down,” Harry said with a shrug, feeling oddly confident, even though he had no idea of what he was saying.  He didn’t _really_ know if Louis genuinely liked Eli, but with the way he casually spent time in bed with many different guys, Harry was more than certain that this one guy standing in front of him had no significant importance to Louis.

“Why do you even care?” Eli asked, and it was clear his confidence was starting to slip just a bit.

“I don’t,” Harry said with a shake of his head, along with a lopsided grin.  “I’m just letting you know before you get hurt.”

“Yeah, because you care about my well being so much,” Eli replied with a roll of his eyes, before standing himself up and turning around to leave.  “Fuck off,” he muttered.

Harry bit on the inside of his cheek as he watched Eli’s back leave through the exit of the room, presumably going to find another person to harass in hopes of obtaining knowledge of where Louis was.

Harry got it, okay?  Louis was essentially everything that a person wanted—he was funny, nice when he wanted to be, pleasant to look at, full of absolutely _magnetic_ energy, and passionate about things that mattered.  It was pretty much impossible for anyone who met him _not_ to like him, but he really wished Eli would just quit it already.  Harry wasn’t _fully_ sure if Eli was still playing a game in order to get at Harry for _whatever_ reason, or if he actually liked Louis, but regardless, Harry was going to put an end to it.

He was pretty sure he’d done a good job of that as he kept the image of Eli’s annoyed expression in his head throughout the day.  He felt that it symbolized something good to come, the fact that Eli hadn’t tried to offer Harry another insult before stalking away.  It was almost as though Harry had defeated him.  All he had to do was hope that the boy would finally leave Louis alone so that he and Harry could…figure out this whole thing between them.  _If_ there was anything.  Louis obviously didn’t think there was anything, but he _would_ eventually.  Harry just had to patiently wait for him to come around.

 

~*~

 

As though on a precise schedule, there was a knock on Harry’s door at twelve o’clock on the dot, smack in the middle of the night as Harry’s eyes glazed over at the hushed television screen.  He was pretty sure he’d almost fallen asleep when the knock sounded, because it caused his head to shake with surprise.

Usually, he’d let out a groan and beg the heavens to send this visitor away, but he was bored and a tad bit lonely, and it also might’ve been Louis, so he definitely wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity.  He didn’t bother to turn any of his lights on as he pushed himself off the couch, ignoring the creaking of his joints.  He seriously needed to get involved in a sport or something.

As soon as he’d dragged his exhausted feet over to the door and twisted it open, energetic hands shook his shoulders.

“Harry!  You’re awake,” Niall exclaimed, before briefly glancing at the boys behind him.  “Told you.  We just wanted to get a late night rehearsal in, if that’s alright with you.”

The tiredness within Harry’s bones disappeared as his eyes widened, because he was completely taken by surprise at the fact that they were still utilizing his place as an area of practice.  It dawned upon him for a moment, how lonely he was that he’d actually gotten a little excited over the idea of the boys filling his flat with deafening noises, when once upon a time, he’d wanted nothing more than to bury himself in a hole in order to get away from them.

“Of course.  I don’t mind,” Harry said as he scratched his hip and stepped aside, allowing the boys to flow in with their different sets of equipment.

Something overcame Harry as he smiled, grabbing Niall by the face and leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.  He was fairly certain it was because of the tremendous amounts of sleepiness encompassing his entire being that he was feeling quite giggly and full of love.  It may have also been because he might’ve, a little bit, just a _smidge_ , adored the shit out of these annoying boys.

He pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads as they entered with different pieces of equipment in their hands, even offering one to Louis, who was, as always, carrying absolutely nothing.  Louis just giggled and wiped his forehead as he made his way into Harry’s dim apartment.

Marcus was thoroughly confused when Harry gave him a kiss on the forehead as well, followed by a tight hug that none of the other boys had gotten.

“Listen, bro.  I’m still so sorry about everything that happened—“

“It’s fine,” Harry said, hazy eyed as he rubbed Marcus’ back soothingly.  “Thank you.”

Marcus pulled back, keeping Harry at arm’s length as he looked at him with thoroughly bewildered eyes.  He blinked for a moment, seemingly about to say something, before simply shaking his head multiple times, one corner of his lips quirking upward.  “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, man.”

Harry followed Marcus back into the flat, closing the door behind himself before waltzing over to one of the couches they’d already pushed to the side.  He drummed his fingers against his thighs impatiently, looking up at the boys with an expectant gaze.

“So what are you guys gonna play today?” Harry asked.

“We’re gonna work on this new _amazing_ song Louis wrote,” Niall said, swinging his guitar over his shoulder.

“Okay, _amazing_ is stretching it,” Louis commented as he shrugged off his leather jacket.

Immediately, Harry’s eyes shifted to the area where Louis’ lower waist was exposed and free, because his oversized white t-shirt seemed to be cropped just a hint.  It was…nice.  Very nice.  A nice display.  His gray joggers rested against his hips as his shirt nearly hung off of his shoulders.

“Just wait until you hear it,” Liam said excitedly, before testing out his mic.

Harry was fairly certain the only reason he hadn’t gotten kicked out of this complex yet was because the guy down in the lobby knew and admired his father.  Otherwise, he never would’ve gotten away with being allowed to have this much noise coming from his place on a regular basis.

The song sounded extremely messy once they’d gotten started, but Harry knew it would eventually sound beautiful, because of the pure fact that Louis wrote it.  Sappy, maybe, but it was the truth, and Harry was done trying to talk himself out of admitting the truth.

It was a pretty mellow song, Harry came to realize, with amazing guitar riffs and smooth vocals, which Liam carried out beautifully.  Harry also couldn’t help but notice it was a strangely sentimental song, even though Louis always swore up and down that he never got mushy when writing.  Harry was definitely going to tease him about this later.

He found himself having to pick up his tired head a few times after they’d been rehearsing for an hour, and the last thing he wanted was to fall asleep on them.  He wanted to get a moment to spend with Louis after they were done practicing, whether it would be a tiny instant where they shared a lame joke, or a big instant where Louis would ask if he could sleep over for the entire night.

He ended up excusing himself to the bathroom in order to wake his brain up by splashing his face with cold water.  He heard the faint sounds of their guitar melodies as the water dripped down his face, and he was feeling significantly more awake.  He tried to ignore the fact that he, Harry Styles, was actually choosing to spend time with people rather than sleep.

As he was wiping his face with one of the small towels hung up by his mirror, he heard the sound of quick feet entering his bedroom, before they joined him in the bathroom.  He brought the towel away from his face, eyes falling upon Louis, shutting the door behind himself before he immediately moved forward and clamped a hand over Harry’s mouth.

“They refused to give me a fifteen minute break, so I snuck away,” Louis said in a hushed tone.  Harry started to giggle against Louis’ hand, shoulders shaking as Louis shook his head at him with fond eyes.

He shoved Louis’ hand away from his face as he rested his backside against the bathroom counter.  “There’s only so many places they can check before they find you.”

“I know but,” Louis started, consumed by laughter purely from the fact that Harry was laughing as well.  “If I only get thirty seconds, I’m taking it.  The boys have been way more serious about things lately.”

“That’s _good_ ,” Harry said, not even thinking before reaching out and tugging on the bottom of Louis’ cropped t-shirt.  “I like this.”

Louis glanced down at where the tips of Harry’s fingers were gripping his shirt, a smirk on his lips when he looked back up at him.  “I just found it on the floor of my room and threw it on.”

“I’m guessing you cut it yourself.”

“Yep,” Louis nodded, a proud grin on his face.  “You know me well.”

“Do I?” Harry asked, letting go of Louis’ shirt when he realized he’d held it too long.  He rested his hands on the counter behind himself.

Louis tried to stifle a grin as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.  “What are you on about _now_ , Harold?”

Harry’s dimple popped out as he smiled crookedly at him.  “C’mon.  I’m talking about the _song_.  You always act like you’re void of feelings and all, but the song was clearly about two people together, with a _fireproof_ love.”

Louis’ lips parted slightly as he stared at Harry, his expression a bit caught off guard, as though he wasn’t expecting Harry to pick up on it, which was odd.  The lyrics were so blatantly sentimental that it would’ve been alarming if someone _didn’t_ pick up on the fact that it was about love.

“It’s okay,” Harry added, sensing Louis’ slowly changing state as the boy shifted on his feet.  “It’s okay to be soft.”

Louis’ eyes eased a bit as he let his shoulders down, tilting his head at Harry.  “Well, the song is about how I _imagine_ a relationship could be.  If I ever let anyone in that way…at some point.  It’s nice to think about—to _write_ about.”

Harry nodded, his lips pressed together.  “All hypothetical, of course.”

Louis nodded back, smiling.  “Hypothetical.”

There was a moment where they were giggling at each other, nothing but soft smiles and ease as they stood in the quietness of his bathroom, and then they were kissing.

Harry’s hand flew to Louis’ waist, stuttered breaths escaping his mouth when his fingertips were met with Louis’ warm skin instead of the material of clothing.  His head moved with Louis’ as their lips worked over one another, languidly and thoroughly, less subtle hesitance than the first time they’d done it.  He knew he wasn’t one to hallucinate, but he could swear there were bursts of color behind his eyelids as he felt the fiery pads of Louis’ fingers sliding up under his shirt, against his bare back.

Harry’s feet moved forward one or two steps, causing Louis to stumble back a little as he gripped Harry’s shirt in one of his fists, and at some point, the boy accidentally stepped on something with his heel and fell right on his ass, leaving Harry’s lips to quickly turn cold again.

When he opened his eyes to look down at Louis, the boy was already laughing wholeheartedly as he picked up the shoe he’d presumably stepped on, throwing it at Harry.  Harry knocked it away from his face before it could hit him, and he began to laugh along with Louis, holding out a hand for the boy to take.

“You should spend less time sleeping and more time picking your shoes up off of the floor,” Louis said, giving Harry’s hand one last squeeze before he moved toward his bedroom, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“You should take a look at your surroundings before kissing someone without warning,” Harry offered as a rebuttal.

“You’re ridiculous,” Louis laughed halfheartedly, eyes now glued to his phone that had obviously snatched his attention away from Harry in less than half a second.

“Can’t believe he still hasn’t texted me back,” Louis said with a huff as he threw himself on Harry’s bed.

Harry settled in next to him, lying on his back with his hands nestled behind his head. “Who?”

“Eli.”

“Ah.”

Louis let out a sigh as he threw his phone against the duvet.  “What kind of person just blatantly doesn’t text back?”

Harry kept a bored expression on his face as he turned his head and met eyes with Louis.  “You.”

“It’s a sin to lie,” Louis said, pushing himself up from the bed.  “I’ll just check my phone after rehearsal to see if he’s texted me.  He’s probably just…busy with something.”

“Who _cares_?” Harry blurted, eyes staring up at the ceiling as Louis’ steps around his room came to a halt.

Louis paused, his hands clasped together in front of him as he faced Harry.  “ _I_ care, obviously.”

Harry put a thumb up in the air, feeling tremendously awkward by how he’d just voiced his thoughts without thinking about what affect they would have once they were out in the open air.  “Good for you.”  As per usual, he just had to close his eyes and hope Louis didn’t read too much into it, although that had begun to prove itself a bad tactic, seeing as Louis was actually more intuitive than he let on.

Not another word came from Louis’ mouth before he turned around and entered back into Harry’s living room, joining the boys and engaging in another round of practicing songs for their next gig.

Harry took a moment to laugh dryly at himself, because he’d really thought he had one over on Eli—thought saying a few disheartening words would end whatever he had with Louis instantly.  He was wrong, obviously, since Louis couldn’t even go two seconds after kissing Harry without thinking about Eli.

Harry wasn’t mad.  Really.

He didn’t change his clothes and gussy up while the band played in the living room because he was _mad_.  He just needed to get out—needed to be somewhere other than Louis’ dreadful presence.

He threw on a white and pink striped Adidas jacket, along with some trackies to match, spent a particular amount of time picking out silver-rimmed sunglasses to set in his hair, and grabbed his keys before venturing out to his living room.

The band’s playing came to an unorganized stop, the boys looking at Harry confusedly as he headed toward the door.

“I’m just going out for a bit,” Harry mumbled.  “You guys stay as long as you want.  Remember to lock up when you leave.”

He didn’t wait for them to say anything before silently closing the door behind himself, letting out a deep breath once he was stood in the hallway alone.

He’d had no real idea of what he was going to go and do, but he just knew he had to get out in order to procure a second to breathe.  It was almost as though he couldn’t casually be around Louis anymore, although the boy was completely unaware of how Harry’s thoughts spiraled out of control whenever he was around.  That was the problem—Harry losing control of his mind, spitting out words that he would normally never say—that was what Louis did to him, and he could admit, it frightened him a little.  He never wanted to find himself subdued by the power of another person’s mere presence.

He’d gotten in his car and wandered aimlessly down the dark paths of the night, taking a moment to clear his mind and possibly stop stressing himself out over things he couldn’t control.  It was nearly two in the morning on a Tuesday night, his grades were starting to worry him, and he yearned for a proper sleep, but he let all those things become insignificant as he trailed down the road.

He didn’t drink, so he had no idea why he decided to turn into the parking lot of a bar just on the outskirts of the campus.  It was one that Harry was aware people barely went to, so he thought maybe he could get some time alone and possibly a drink if there were any non alcoholic options available.

Sure enough, there actually weren’t many people inside of the bar once he entered, either because of the fact that it was a _Tuesday_ night, or Harry was correct, and this one was in fact the bar that not many people went to.  He saw a few familiar faces lingering around, conversing and clutching glasses in their hands—none of whom he’d ever spoken to, however.

He was suddenly unaware of how to occupy himself once he entered, feeling weary of the creepy looking bartender behind the counter.

“Looking for something?” he heard some guy ask off to his side, and he turned his head in the direction of the voice to find a young, familiar face staring at him.  Harry wasn’t sure of whether he’d known him from one of his classes or from high school, but he was most certainly recognizable.  He had a smooth buzz cut, wore a soft salmon sweatshirt, and seemed almost out of place amongst the dreary, ominous setting of the place.

Harry tapped the pads of his fingers together as he brought his eyes back down to himself.  “No, I’m just…uh, watching.”

The guy stepped closer, his white teeth shining as he flashed Harry a charming smile.  “Want me to buy you something to drink?”

Harry blinked down at his fingers for a moment, taking some time to try and decipher what was happening right now.  Was this guy hitting on him?  Or was this a random, friendly thing?  He felt like the answer should’ve been obvious, but he’d never had a guy hit on him before, so he was just wondering—why _now_?  Had Harry been giving off a different vibe than usual?

Normally, Harry would step away and find some place to fuck off and be by himself, but the guy seemed very polite and eager to buy Harry something to drink, so it would’ve been foolish of him to refuse.

“Sure.  Yeah,” Harry replied, nodding his head as a grin grew on his face.

The guy, whose name Harry came to find out was Andre, actually put a bold, yet soft hand on Harry’s lower back as he led him toward the bar.

This was…different.  Not _bad_ , but different.

His paranoia of coming face to face with the bartender evaporated into thin air once the guy bought him a nice fruity drink, laughing with him about how he didn’t drink alcohol.

“I don’t see the fun in alcohol,” Harry said at some point, shoving the guy for teasing him.

Andre leaned into him, his elbow over the counter as he kept his gaze dead set on Harry.  “What _do_ you see the fun in, then?”  His voice was low, clearly insinuating what Harry knew he’d approached him for from the very beginning.

It might’ve even been the reason Harry came in the first place.

He froze for a moment, still not fully adjusted to how this guy had been actively flirting with him all night.  Now, it was clear what he wanted, in the way his eyes flickered down to Harry’s lips every now and then, the low, sharp tone of his voice, his touchy, wandering hands.  However, Harry still wasn’t sure, but he thought being unsure could’ve been a good thing for once.  It would give him the flexibility to explore.

Harry came loose and shrugged.  “Dunno,” he replied, before downing the rest of his drink in one go.

Andre’s hand came to rest over his that was on top of the counter as well, gentle fingers tracing patterns into the back of Harry’s surprisingly dry palm.  “C’mon.  You’ve gotta have _something_ in mind.”

A nervous, awkward laugh escaped Harry’s lips, causing him to stifle it with his other hand immediately.  He was quickly turning into an uncertain wreck, his mind going ninety miles per hour and the sound of his heartbeat suddenly much more overbearing.

“ _This_ is fun,” Harry replied slowly, every syllable flowing off of his tongue with purpose.  He was pretty sure it was the boldest thing he’d ever said in his life, even though they were three simple words.

Andre leaned forward, lifting his hand that was initially on top of Harry’s and gripping the collar of his jacket, pulling him in close, eyes focused purely on his mouth.  “Wanna go have some _actual_ fun?”

Harry was apprehensive about everything for a moment, knowing that this was definitely the perfect time to backtrack and leave.

Then he thought about Louis searching for Eli’s text right after kissing him.

It took essentially every drop of courage in Harry’s body to keep his voice from squeaking even a hint.  “Sure.”

That one word could’ve held many meanings, and Harry was aware of how potentially dangerous everything could be as this guy took his hand and lead him out of the bar and into the vast parking lot with determined feet.  He might have swallowed twice or two hundred times on the short walk there, wondering if these were the last steps he was ever going to take.

When they got in the guy’s car and Harry saw the family pictures in his wallet that was left on the dashboard, the little Hawaiian lady dancing in front of the window, and the mess of modern CD’s scattered on the floor, the tension inside of him eased a bit.  This guy was normal, so it was okay.  Harry wanted to do this—this whole _exploring_ thing, if that was what it was called—with a _normal_ guy, so he was totally okay with this.

This could’ve been a potentially amazing thing, Harry believed, because it would let him know if Louis was a special case, or if he was actually interested in guys—in some fashion.  This would help, because right now, Harry was thoroughly confused and stuck with no idea of what to think when he found himself wishing Louis was in bed with him at night.

“You know, I’ve seen you around school,” Andre said, picking up some things off the floor under Harry’s feet and throwing it in the back.

Harry’s eyebrow quirked up.  “You have?”

“Yeah.  You’re in one of my classes.”

“Am I?”

“Yep,” Andre replied, shaking his head at him as a fond expression settled on his face.  He leaned forward in his seat, reaching out a hand and stroking under Harry’s chin with tender fingers, causing Harry‘s dimples to pop out in response.  “I always thought you were cute.”

Harry was certain his face went red at that, because the thought of someone admiring him from afar was above and beyond flattering.  He grinned bashfully as he looked down at his chest, trying to figure out if he was going to just _go_ for it for once in his life.

“Thanks,” he said, looking up at him once more.  Then, he said what he felt was true, without thinking about what it would mean or filtering what came out.  “You’re cute too.”

Andre’s lips parted for a second, as though he was surprised, which was something Harry could fully relate to.  Then, his fingers were caressing Harry’s chin, and he was leaning forward, pressing firm lips against Harry’s.

It shocked Harry for half a second, brought the tiniest of gasps out from between his lips before he got past the bafflement and fell in line with Andre’s lips.  The pecks were slow and subtle at first, but quickly turned into engulfed lips and millisecond breaths once they started properly making out.  As the guy leaned forward in his seat, caressing Harry’s face in his hands, Harry was starting to come to terms with the fact that he _really_ liked this.  He really, _fucking_ liked this, and maybe it was pretty dumb to equate his sexuality to whether he liked to kiss a certain person or not, because everyone had lips, no matter what gender, but somehow this just seemed _different_.  Harry didn’t know how to explain it.

The kiss started to pick up steam as the guy was practically hovered over him in the passenger seat, his lips sucking hard against Harry’s as he weaved rough fingers through his curls.  He couldn’t help the choked sound that escaped his mouth when the boy pulled back, their foreheads pressed together as they panted.

“I’ve always hoped you were into guys,” he breathed, before going back in again.

Harry could feel his entire body becoming consumed by the coldness of his finger tips as he ran his hands down Harry’s torso, all the way down to his crotch.  Of all things, _this_ was what caused one of Harry’s eyes to open, his mind becoming completely aware of what was happening.

Andre’s palm slowly pressed down into the front of his pants, and Harry bit his lip, knowing no doubt that he was about to have tented trackies in about five seconds if he didn’t put a stop to this.  He wanted to—well, his _body_ wanted to, _so_ badly—but for some reason, his mind drifted to Louis and he couldn’t bring himself to continue.

“ _Wait—_ wait,” Harry breathed out, holding the guy back by his shoulders.

Andre’s eyes searched Harry’s for a moment, eyebrows knit together in frustration.

“I…” Harry started, choking on his words a bit as he willed the excitement struggling to grow in his pants to settle back down.  “I can’t do this.  I’m sorry, I—I just can’t.”

He didn’t stick around for however the guy would try and coerce him, and instead opened the door next to him and let himself out, looking down and being grateful that everything in his pants had cooperated with his rational mind.  He didn’t dare to glance behind him as he took nearly hurried steps to his own car, feeling severely conflicted and unable to form stable thoughts.

He slapped a hard palm to his forehead once he was sat in his driver’s seat, because now, not only had he felt like he’d done something wrong, but he was also _really_ horny.  He didn’t even know he could be _this_ horny.  He wondered if this was why Louis loved sex so much.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the last you'll see of andre pinky promise
> 
> what do you guys think will end up happening soon? any guesses? inferences? prayer requests?


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

It had been days—six days specifically— and Harry had no idea why.  He also had no idea of why he cared, or why he was keeping track of how many days he had gone without communicating with Louis.  His loud conscience was telling him that maybe this was his punishment for even daring to find himself staring at another guy while he knew who he was supposed to be focused on, but that couldn’t have been the case, because Louis obviously didn’t know about that.  The only reason he could’ve pinpointed for why Louis hadn’t spoken to him lately would’ve been because of his offhanded, rude outburst the other night.  Louis had clearly picked up on Harry’s inappropriately overbearing behavior and became repelled, leaving Harry to fend for himself as he dealt with his own heavy internal conflicts.

He had used a person, and he wanted to feel bad about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to.  Andre was going to use _him_ anyway, just so he could pleasure himself for one night and move onto the next one, because Harry could see the blatant hunger in his eyes from the moment they’d first spoken to eachother.  Harry used him for clarification and he used Harry for a quick fix.  All was well.

He was aware it had only been six days, but oddly, instances away from Louis always felt doubled whenever Harry thought about it.  Those six days felt like two weeks, and give it a few more days and Harry would've felt like he’d been apart from Louis for an entire month.  Pure torture was the only way he could describe it.

He was also getting quite tired of people just ignoring him as a human being altogether.  It seemed everyone around him had better, more important things to tend to besides listening to Harry complain about his brand of sparkling water consistently being out of stock.

It was a Sunday morning, and Harry was certain he hadn’t had any human interaction in the last three days, which was simply sad, even for him.

He’d resorted to organizing his shoes in his closet as the afternoon began to draw near, feeling significantly lonely and desperate for even a sliver of attention.  As always, his mind gave him the idea to call up his dad and see if the man actually had time to spare for Harry, even though it seemed unlikely.

There were a few rings as he sat on the floor of his dimly lit closet, cell phone pressed against his ear as he let out back to back yawns.  About six rings had passed before there was a silence, followed by tons of shuffling as his dad seemingly struggled to get situated.

“Dad?” Harry asked, a confused look on his face as the sounds continued on the other side of the line.

“Harry, I’m here,” his dad replied with a grunt, before silence finally came about.  “Hey.  How are you?”  He clearly sounded distracted, which made Harry’s fingers twitch with irritation from where they were set on his lap.  Did _anyone_ have time for him?

“I’m…fine,” Harry said hesitantly.  “Are _you_ okay?”

“Of course,” he answered.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno…” Harry said, picking lint off of his sweatpants.  “You just…uh, seem a bit busy lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, whenever I try to talk to you, you’re—“

His words got cut off by the sound of a loud, high-pitched wail that caused Harry to wince as he moved his phone away from his ear, staring at it with alarmed eyes as though the device betrayed him.

He brought the phone back to his ear once he was sure no more eardrum-busting sounds would scare him.  “What was tha—“

“Sorry Haz, I have to go,” he said hurriedly, followed by more noisy movement.  “Call you later!”

The line went flat, and Harry was left staring at his hung clothes with an unimpressed expression on his face.  He couldn’t say he didn’t expect as much.  Maybe a little more time before his father inevitably hung up on him, but whatever.

He was thoroughly fed up with the day when he found himself at the store after discovering that one of the boys had apparently broken his microwave during rehearsal without telling him.  He was already all alone for an entire day, he didn’t want to fucking _starve_ himself to death, so he went out to utilize his money and buy a new one.  Even more fortunately, Louis wasn’t working at the supermarket that day, because he was nowhere to be seen.  That meant he must’ve been somewhere else, and Harry didn’t even spend a second dwelling on where that could've been.

He was completely done with Sunday, done with being neglected, done with being taken for granted—done in every way a boy could've been _done_.

While he was hauling the boxed microwave into his trunk, he heard his name uttered somewhere next to him.

“Harry?” said Zayn’s voice, light and uncertain.

Harry looked at him, letting out a huff as he scooted the box all the way to the corner of his trunk.  “It’s me.”

“Oh.  Hi.  Didn’t know you were here,” Zayn said, rocking on his heels as he held a plastic bag of groceries in one hand.

Harry wasn’t so subtle in the harsh way he rolled his eyes in response, shutting his trunk harshly.  “Of course you didn’t.”

Zayn’s lips parted as his eyebrows furrowed, clearly taken aback by Harry’s snippy attitude.  “Hey.  Is there a _problem_ or something?”

“No, Zayn,” Harry replied sternly, rounding his car in order to unlock it.  “There’s no problem.”

“What’s bothering you?” Zayn asked, concern sprinkled in his tone as he stepped forward, now in the space between Harry’s vehicle and the next.  “You know I’ll always listen.”

Harry let out a dry chuckle, pausing the action of twisting his key in the hole of his door.  “You ask me as though you care.  You haven’t properly spoken to me in twelve thousand years.”

Zayn’s lips parted, his head cocking to the side a bit as he stared hard at Harry.  “What are you _talking_ about?”

“I’m—just forget it,” Harry replied, shaking his head as he turned back toward his car.  “Forget it.”

“Um, I’m _not_ forgetting it,” Zayn said, taking a step closer to Harry.  “Something’s obviously got you bitter, so you might as well let it out.”

Harry turned his attention back to him, only feeling a little offended at how Zayn decided to switch up on him so quickly.  “I’m not _bitter_.  What do I even have to be _bitter_ about?”

“It seems to me like you’re mad that I’m spending time with Niall.”

'"Spending time' isn’t the phrase I would use there,” Harry replied.  “More like, ‘completely forgetting you have any other friends and attaching yourself onto Niall like a flea’.”

Zayn actually gasped, his jaw to the floor as he looked thoroughly affected by Harry’s words, which weren’t even the best he could do, if he was being honest.  “Niall is my _soulmate_ , Harry.  Of course I’m gonna wanna spend as much time with him as I can.  You should understand that.”

Harry did nothing but laugh, crossing his arms as he shifted his feet.  He was letting all his insecurities and confused thoughts filter out in the form of hostility toward Zayn, and he somehow felt like this was letting it all out—freeing him of the frustration that had been eating him up for a while now.  Harry had practically been a ticking time bomb for the past few days, so if Zayn wanted to poke at him, he was going to have to deal with the explosion.  After all, the boy really _hadn’t_ spoken to or even as much as _texted_ Harry since he’d started getting overly invested in Niall.

Zayn gestured at him, giving a bitter head nod.  “See, _that’s_ the problem.  You think the soulmate thing is a joke, and you always _have_.  God, Harry, would it kill you to be a supportive friend for once?”

Harry’s stance changed as he picked up one what Zayn was implying.  “I don’t—“

“Why is it so hard for you to be happy about _anything_?” Zayn asked, his voice more desperate and sharp now.  “At least happy for _me?_ Your actual _friend?_ ”

Harry was rendered speechless for a moment, his mouth fixated but withholding itself from letting out a full sentence.  “I…I wasn’t—“

“Just save it, Harry.  You thought it was stupid from the start, and you still do,” Zayn replied, biting the inside of his cheek and clearly containing his emotions.

He’d somehow turned this into a way to make himself the victim and Harry feel shitty, and Harry figured that just won’t do.

“Yeah, I think it’s _so stupid,_ and that’s why I let your _stupid_ boyfriend and his _stupid_ friends practice at my fucking apartment every other weekend,” Harry snapped.  He leaned forward, his eyes serious as he put an even more stern tone in his voice.  “I do all of that because I find everything _so stupid_ , right Zayn?  You do realize you haven’t talked me in _weeks_?”

“That’s not true—“

“It _is_ , and you would know if you were actually paying attention,” Harry said sharply.  “But you don’t, because you don’t care.”

“Well maybe I needed a _break_ from you!  Have you ever considered that?” Zayn practically yelled, his tone angrier than Harry had ever heard it.  “A break from the negativity, the constant reminders of how rich you are compared to me, feeling overall inferior when we hang out!”

“ _Inferior_?  What the fuck are you _talking_ about, Z?” Harry asked incredulously.

“I’m talking about _you_!” Zayn yelled, pointing at him.

“When have I _ever_ made you feel—“

“I’m reminded of it every day that you’re _here_ , okay?” Zayn said.  “The fact that you got here on a full scholarship, while I had to bust my ass through all of my high school years, only to have a few dollars given to me.  You didn’t have to do a fucking thing, just sit back and let your dad handle things for you the easy way!”

“I _earned_ the scholarship!” Harry yelled back, only a tiny bit whiny.

Zayn nodded coldly.  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, as though your dad’s not friends with the superintendent, because he’s literally friends with _everyone_.  And you have the energy to still whine about not getting enough attention from him.  Grow up, Harry.”

“Wow,” Harry started, bringing his volume back to a reasonable decibel as he furrowed his eyebrows at himself and tried to keep up with all the angry words that had been shouted at him in the last two minutes.  “So _that’s_ how you really feel about me.  Jealous.  Ever since we were thirteen.  If you didn’t like me, you didn’t have to fucking hang around me.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Zayn said with a shake of his head, turning around to leave.

Harry turned toward his car again, finally opening the door as he replied with a “Fuck you, too.”

 

~*~

 

Harry may or may not have been sitting in the student lobby at the moment, with really no reason because he didn’t live on campus, but still continuing to sink himself into the soft couch nonetheless.  He had no idea of what time it was, because his phone had died an hour ago, but the darkness and streetlights outside of the window led him to guess that it was probably around eight or nine.  He needed to get home and maybe work on some of his assignments.  He also realized he needed to conjure up a motivation to do those things first.

He was feeling thoroughly and deeply miserable, even though he hated to admit something so vulnerable, even to himself.  He curled in on himself on the couch, his arms clutching the sides of his abdomen as he kept his head down and tried to stifle his emotions.

He’d walked away from the argument he and Zayn had, convincing himself he was unaffected and ready to forget about whatever “friendship” they’d had altogether, but that only lasted thirty minutes before Harry’s mood declined rapidly and left him feeling tremendously shitty.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that was how everybody felt about him—that he was this snobby, grumpy, pompous fuckhead who could never express sympathy for anything.  That certainly wasn’t who he was.  It definitely wasn’t who he _wanted_ to be.

In a way, he sort of felt like his whole life had been a lie.  He’d had a few friends here and there—no one he could really pick out specifically and note, but just a few.  Had they all felt this way about him?  Had he ever had anyone that _genuinely cared_ about his presence?

He was now pretty sure that this was the very reason Cecile cheated on him without a care, barely even trying to beg for forgiveness.  He was a shitty boyfriend and a shitty friend and he was probably a shitty person altogether who didn’t deserve anything he had.  Hell, he didn’t even deserve to be at this school.

The stinging in his eyes became prominent as he sank deeper into the couch, seemingly trying to hide himself from the world, bury himself in the cushion, never to see the light of day.  He didn’t want another human to ever look at him again.

The vision of the student lobby, where most of the lights were turned off and the area was void of students, was blurry as he stared ahead, trying not to sniffle.

Maybe he was being a melodramatic teenager, but he didn’t care.  He wanted to transfer schools.  He desired a fresh start at a new campus where Louis couldn’t catch him, no matter how hard the universe tried to glue them together.

It seemed that at that exact moment, the sound of Louis’ voice made its way into Harry’s ears.  Harry sat up a bit, feeling pretty sure about the fact that he was hallucinating and needed to go and get help immediately, but when he turned around and peeked his head over the back of the couch, there the boy was, far away and leaned against the wall on the corner of one of the hallways, speaking on the phone as he kicked his feet against the ground.

Harry kept his eyes on him, watching silently as the boy’s sweet voice danced its way into his surroundings, although he was too far away for Harry to pick out any specific thing he could’ve been saying.  Harry hadn’t seen him in such a long time, so he felt perfectly content— _joyful_ , even—admiring him from afar with watery, sad eyes.  Not a single tear had fallen yet, however, so he was _not_ crying.

Louis hung up his cell phone after a while, and then he turned on his heel toward the hallway, where he would disappear from Harry’s sight and leave him all alone again.  Harry couldn’t let that happen.

He rose to his feet and followed Louis right into the hall he had turned into, and the boy immediately turned around upon hearing footsteps behind him.  His eyebrows quirked up in surprise once he realized it was Harry, and Harry hoped the halls were dark enough so that the boy wouldn’t notice the glossy irises behind his stare.

“Hey,” Harry said, using the softest voice he could muster.

Louis laid his back against the nearest wall, staring Harry down with an unimpressed look.  “Hello there.  Want something?”

The hostility of his tone caught Harry off guard a bit, but he wasn’t going to quit _that_ easily.  He hadn’t seen Louis in _months_ —well, seven days, but _months._

“I was…I was just wondering where you’re sleeping tonight?  You could sleep at mine…if you want, of course.”

“Oh, really?” Louis asked, his voice now obviously full of bitterness.  “Thought _Andre Hampton_ already made that reservation.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, the words getting caught in his throat as his chest started to tighten.  He was aware he appeared to be a baffled mess right now, but that was because he was _genuinely_ confused.  How the fuck did Louis know?

“What…?” Harry asked slowly, his tone breathy.

“Don’t act confused,” Louis replied, narrowing his eyes as he pointed at Harry.  “I know you were making out with Andre in his car and letting him feel you up.”  He practically spit the words out.  “Do better, Harry.  Seriously.”

“Wha—Why… _How_ did you find out?” Harry asked, scratching behind his head.

“I have my sources,” Louis replied.  “And also, if you’re trying to hide things from me, you might not wanna stick your tongue down some guy’s throat in the middle of the parking lot.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened as he looked down, feeling as though everything he had ever done in life was backfiring on him today.

“I’ve gotta say, I’m shocked, Harry,” Louis said, pushing his back away from the wall and taking slow steps around him.  “Thought you would’ve waited _at least_ ten seconds after kissing me.”

So he was _legitimately_ pointing out the _very_ thing he’d done to Harry on the first night they kissed.  Classy.

“Why do you even _care_ , Louis?” Harry asked, his volume a hint louder.  “So I can’t kiss people now?”

“You can, and I have a right to be pissed about it,” Louis said with a shrug.  “Understand?”

“No, I _don’t_ understand,” Harry hissed.  “You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.  Don’t worry about who _I’m_ making out with, please and thank you.”

He ignored the way his eyes started to sting again, instead focusing on keeping his voice strong and controlled.  He’d just wanted to get Louis to his flat and fall asleep with him by his side in order to make up for the fact that he’d been so miserable these past few days, but of course the universe couldn’t let him have this _one_ thing.

“I’m _not_ worried,” Louis replied, even though his face made it clear that he in fact, was.  “I don’t even _care!”_

“Then why are you making me _feel bad_?” Harry asked desperately, loudly before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, trying to contain the emotion.

Louis appeared taken aback by how dramatic Harry was being, even though Harry felt his melodrama was perfectly justified.  The boy waved his hand away at Harry, turning in order to continue his walk down the hall.  “Whatever.  This conversation is pointless.  I don’t care.”

“We’re not _done_ ,” Harry said with a sniffle, following up behind Louis and turning him around with a hand to his shoulder.

“Harry, _what_?” Louis asked, desperation in his eyes as he stared at him.  _“What_ do you want from me?”

Harry pointed at his chest.  “You’re seriously getting mad at _me_ for fucking kissing someone, even though you go out and bang Eli every _night_?  Louis, you _know_ he hates me!  How _could_ you?”

He sounded thoroughly hurt, which was probably why Louis looked so puzzled, blinking at Harry numerous times with his lips parted.  His voice was much softer than before when he spoke again.  “What, so you had to go and hook up with Andre for revenge?  Is that what we’re doing now?”

Harry took a step forward, challenging Louis with his eyes and not daring to glance anywhere else.  “Me making out with Andre is no different from you shagging a different guy every other night.”

Louis’ eyes narrowed slightly for a moment, his feet taking slow steps away from Harry as his bottom lip began to tremble.  He nodded his head multiple times before speaking, his eyes now averted to numerous areas that weren’t Harry’s.  “So _that’s_ what you think of me, right?”

Harry let out a sigh, shaking his head at how Louis had obviously taken it.  Why did every sentence that fell out of his mouth have to ruin everything?  God, he should seriously quit speaking _forever_.

“Louis, I didn’t mean—“

“Yes, you _did_ ,” Louis snapped, shoving past Harry and moving down the hall in order to exit the building.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry called, turning right around in order to follow him.

He caught up to him before he could go outside, grabbing his arm and halting his steps, the boy’s efforts to storm away completely useless.  “ _Louis_.”

“ _What_?” Louis spat.

Harry scratched the side of his neck for a moment, feeling uncertain, but also still wondering how the night was going to end.  “Um…so you’re _not_ sleeping at mine tonight?”

“Fuck you,” Louis said, before ripping away from his grip and stalking outside.

Yep, Harry was definitely going to tape his mouth shut sometime in the near future.

“Louis, c’mon—I’m _sorry_ ,” Harry called after him, struggling to keep up as Louis took long, fast steps along the sidewalk, apparently eager to get away from Harry.

He ended up following the boy for many blocks, not even knowing where they were headed or how he was going to get back home as Louis continued to turn corners and shout profanity at Harry over his shoulder.  The cold air wasn’t helping at all, and Harry knew it would’ve been best for him to just turn around and go home, but he _couldn’t_.  He knew that if he went home right now, he wouldn’t get even half a second of sleep with the knowledge that things weren’t alright between him and Louis.

When Harry thought he’d lost track of Louis and started to hurry his steps around the dark streets, he almost tripped over his feet when he found the boy sat on a secluded bench on a street curb, void of any street lights.  He approached him with hesitant steps, taking a casual seat beside him on the wooden bench.

There was silence for a moment, both of them breathing heavily (Harry more so) as Louis stared straight ahead with his arms tightly crossed.  It was apparent, how deeply he was thinking, and Harry wanted him to stop.  Harry hadn’t meant what he’d said to be taken at _all_ how Louis interpreted it.

“So I’m just the huge fucking _slut_ to you aren’t I?” Louis asked loudly, his voice wavering.

Harry groaned in frustration, leaning forward on his knees and burying his face in his palms for a moment.  “ _No,_ Louis!  God, if you’d just _listen_ to me for a second—“

“I’m not going to listen to one _fucking_ word you have to say!”

“Because _that’s_ the proper way to settle things.”

“Could you stop being sarcastic for one fucking second of your life?” Louis asked, finally looking at him.

“Could you cooperate and listen to a voice other than your own, _ever_?”

“I don’t listen to dickheads.”

“And I don’t engage in conversation with stubborn brats, yet here I am.”

“You’re being annoying,” Louis retorted.

Harry slumped back in his seat, throwing his hands in the air in defeat.  “Why do I even _try_ with you?”

Louis abruptly rose to his feet, arms glued over his chest as he turned around and exited into the mess of gnarled trees behind the bench.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, looking behind him over the bench.

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis called back, obviously having gotten pretty far away in just a few seconds.  Harry looked at the trees for a while, which could’ve really just as well have been called a forest with how heavily the trees kept Louis hidden and Harry from finding out where he was walking.

Harry turned back forward, fists settled on his thighs as he tried to calm himself down.  He was done with this, because Louis clearly wasn’t going to try and see things from _any_ point of view other than his own.  Harry had tried to talk to him and he’d turned around and walked into the fucking woods, so what more could he have done?  He should’ve gone straight home instead of thinking for a moment that this was something to fight for.

He sat with frustration for what felt like ten minutes, fully expecting Louis to grow tired of being stubborn and come back any second now, but he never did.  Light drops of rain were beginning to fall from the sky, hitting the tip of Harry’s nose and adding to all of his misery.

As more seconds passed and Harry couldn’t hear a single sound from the woods behind him, the worry started to settle itself in the pit of his stomach.  Why hadn’t Louis come back yet?  Surely he wasn’t _so_ angry that he went to go and sleep in the middle of some bushes.

Harry quickly pushed himself up from the bench as the rain started to come down more heavily, and he shoved through the sharp tree branches, finding himself completely lost within the sea of this fucking, _fucking_ forest that Louis walked into without a care.

His jacket got ripped twice as he maneuvered his way through the trails, not even realizing how large the area was until he’d entered it.  Panic slowly tried to consume him as the rain fell harder, striking him in the face and hindering his vision while his feet started to move more frantically.

“ _Louis!”_ Harry yelled, his hands cupped against his mouth and his eyes practically seeing nothing.  He got silence in response, causing him to rest a hand against a tree trunk as he tried not to faint from the fact that he had no idea where Louis was.

Fuck.  He should’ve never let him walk away, _fuck_.  Harry knew better than to let him walk away while he was angry and irrational, and now he was going to pay the enormous price for it.

His clothes were sopping wet as he nearly ran into bushes and pointy branches looking for his boy, and one glance over to the side brought Harry to notice a lake, far down at the bottom of a hill, quickly starting to fill up with additional amounts of water as the rain came crashing down.  It was then that he remembered Louis couldn’t swim.

“ _Louis!”_ Harry yelled again, his voice pained.  “Louis _,_ please come back!  I’m _sorry_!”

This was all going to be his fault.  He felt his stomach folding in on itself as he imagined it—The Red Rogue losing their guitar player and official songwriter, all because Harry was being a stubborn piece of shit and didn’t know that Louis was something he could _never_ give up on.  Even if it killed him, Harry would never give up on that boy again.

God, that was, if he ever even _saw_ the boy again.  Jesus _Christ_.

Harry tried to blame the fact that his face was so wet on the rain, because it helped him to push forward and continue his search for Louis instead of curling up on the ground in a sobbing mess.  He just didn’t know what he’d do without Louis, and the thought of losing him ripped  Harry’s heart apart as he grabbed at branches, lifted logs, and blinked rain out of his eyes.  He _couldn’t_ lose him.  Harry wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if he wasn’t around anymore.  He’d just _die_.  He couldn’t be without Louis because he’d _fucking_ die—

The breath was knocked out of him when he was bumped into, his eyes immediately growing wide as he settled his gaze upon this person in order to make sure it was actually Louis.  The boy’s eyes were red rimmed and wet as well, and within seconds, they crushed each other in a suffocating hug, pressing everything they had into one another as they held on tight, like blades of grass to soil, frost to the tips of mountains, the moon above to the gravitational pull of earth.  He felt like he would never let go—not even if the world began to end around them.

He was still crying as he buried his face into Louis’ shoulder, hands trembling with a mixture of fear and relief.

Harry’s voice came out shaky when he spoke into Louis’ ear.  “I’m lonely.”

“I’m right here, Harry,” Louis said, his voice weak as he held Harry tighter around his waist.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, i heard from some of you that my chapters weren't showing up in the larry tag whenever i updated. i tried to fix it, so i would appreciate if you guys would let me know if this chapter showed up properly :) thank you.

 

_I’m right here, Harry.  I’m not going anywhere._

Those two sentences remained within a constant loop inside Harry’s mind, clouding his thoughts and causing his heart to beat in an unfamiliar fashion.  Louis had held him close, and he was probably far more terrified than Harry was himself, but still he managed to reassure him and whisper sweet words into his ear to calm him down.

His words had rang true for the rest of that night, when he remained by Harry’s side all the way back to his flat, and they fell asleep next to each other on top of the sheets with damp, mildew scented clothes clinging to their skin as they shared tired breaths in the silence of his bedroom.

The memory of how peaceful it had been to fall asleep knowing Louis was within arm’s reach caused Harry’s fist to tighten around the steering wheel of his car, knuckles whitening with sensation.  A few days had passed since then, but it was all Harry could think about.  It was almost becoming a safe memory—a place he could allow his mind to drift to in order to instantly put him in a happy state.

He continued to recall the little details as he turned on a street corner, his head reeling with daydreams.

He’d fallen asleep to Louis’ eyes and woken up to them as well, which was new for Harry.  Usually when Louis slept over, Harry would face the other way, but he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing that night—not when he was nearly trembling with how easily he realized he could lose the boy lying down in front of him.  His own eyes were full of dazed, sleepy wonder, while Louis’ seemed to be a bit more on the worried side.  Harry had brushed it off, instead choosing to drift off into a calming sleep and wait for whatever would come in the morning.

Louis had been less worried in the morning, smiling at Harry lazily as he moved a curl out of his face.  They’d spent a significant amount of time in bed after waking up, rambling about nothing to each other and almost acting as if the night before had never happened.  Louis wasn’t angry with Harry anymore, Harry wasn’t frustrated with him, and now they could continue on with the pure friendship that had already been starting to bloom between them.  He knew he still had many things to worry about, like the odd fact that Louis had gotten mad at him about kissing someone else and what that might’ve meant, the knowledge that Eli and Louis were still a thing, and lastly, the fact that he’d lost someone as a friend who he’d actually valued, but he forced himself to forget about those things and to fully be in the moment with Louis, soak up all his lopsided grins like a sponge, allow his sleepy giggles to marinate in his eardrums, close his eyes to the feeling of Louis’ hand on his chest as he told him about a hilarious time he tried out flogging.

That peaceful memory was the only thing that kept him uplifted while on the way to his dad’s house for the first time in a while.  He had been nervous about taking initiative and going without even making sure his dad was free, but he had begun to grow sick and tired of being pushed off to the side by the man because of something that was apparently more important than him.  “Apparently” was being used strongly, because in reality, nothing was more important than Harry.  He didn’t make the rules—it was simply the truth.

The easy, relaxed state he was in began to fade bit by bit the more he allowed Zayn’s harsh words to cut into the atmosphere of his car.  He was well aware that he was going to his father’s house to address the issue directly—without talking to a voicemail machine or getting hung up on, because it was his _dad_.  Any normal human would want attention from someone who helped birth them, so Zayn had no _right_ to make Harry seem like some whiny baby for complaining about it.  It was quite tragic, the way Zayn had been obviously jealous for many years, yet decided to string himself along with Harry and build some phony friendship for no reason.  He might have thought he knew Harry, but he didn’t.  The boy was wrong in _every_ way, about _every_ single thing that came out from between his lips, and Harry would make sure he knew it someday.

Once he’d taken the long journey up to his dad’s front door, his calm, carefree state was less so, becoming replaced with a more determined and fierce aura.  He demanded to know why his father wasn’t giving him his undivided attention, and he demanded to know _now_.

He rang the doorbell with a firm finger, growing impatient after a mere two seconds of waiting.  He set his jaw tight as he stood there silently, the sounds of shuffling starting to become evident in his ears.

When the door opened, he was met with a face that definitely wasn’t his dad’s—nor was it male.

Harry’s hard stance deflated as he parted his lips, two of his eyebrows quirking up in slight bewilderment.  “Oh.”

“Hello, um—“ she started, fixing her blonde hair and starting to appear a little nervous.

“Harry— _Harry,_ ” he heard the voice of his dad say, before he came into view as he ran up behind the fidgeting blonde lady.  “I had no idea you were coming.”

Harry’s eyes were fixed on the lady in front of him as his father continued to go on and on about how he should’ve told him he was coming.

“So you have a girlfriend?  Is this why you’ve been so flaky?”  Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he continued to look between his father and this stranger, trying to will the folding in his stomach to cease.

His dad looked down at the ground dejectedly, stroking his palm over his forehead.

Harry let out a short breath as he looked away, trying and failing at sounding convincing.  “Because I don’t care.  You didn’t have to…hide this.  I don’t care that you found someone else,” he said, eyes concentrated purely on the doorbell.

“Harry, it’s not…”

His father was cut off by the sound of loud whining, just like Harry had heard on the phone when he’d spoken to his dad that other time.  Now that Harry was standing there, listening to it in real life and not over the static muffles of the phone, he could definitely identify it as a baby’s cry.

He didn’t pause another second before letting himself past his father and this woman that wasn’t even nearly as gorgeous as his mum, stepping into the extensive living area to find the tiniest little girl, sitting in a giant play pen and crying her eyes out.

He wasn’t even granted a moment to think before the woman was brushing past him like a gust of wind, swooping down into the play pen to take the little girl out and proceeding to rock her back and forth until she grew silent.

Confused eyes narrowed for a moment as Harry struggled to grasp all that was going on right then.

“Harry, sit down,” his dad said, using that tone of voice that Harry grew to realize always meant things were about to get serious.

Harry’s arms were now crossed as he stood in the middle of the living area, many feet away from the couch where his father now sat, gradually closing in on himself.  “No, I don’t need to.  So she has a baby.  It’s fine, I get it now.  I get why you’ve been busy.”

His father let out a long sigh as he watched Harry visibly try to hold his vexation together.  With a shake of his head and a single sniff, Harry turned on his feet in order to leave.  “It’s fine.  I’ll just leave—“

“Harry, she’s _our_ baby,” his dad said.

Harry paused in his tracks, a few feet away from the door as he picked his face up, gaze fixed on the chimes surrounding the entrance.  Immediately, as if acting on its own, his head starting shaking as he turned to look at his father, disbelief and betrayal written all over his features.  “You’re lying.”

He shifted his eyes to the blonde lady and the little girl with green eyes and short strands of hair.  She couldn’t have been more than a year old—she could barely even sit _up_.

His dad sighed again.  “Harry, sit down so we can discuss this—“

“ _No_ ,” Harry spat.  “She’s clearly several months old, and I know you haven’t had a baby for _months_ now.  I would’ve known, dad.  You would’ve _told_ me.”

“I didn’t know how you’d take it—“

“So now you’re just on to the next part of your life where you forget about me and Gemma, right?” Harry asked, not realizing the rims of red becoming evident in his eyes.  “Ready to just shrug us off and begin your new life?  Have an entire _baby_ with _someone else_ , without even telling us?”  His voice grew more emotional and raw as his father’s eyes widened at him, probably shocked by his high volume.  “Well guess what?  I don’t _care_!”

His father’s astonished look vanished as a more stern expression took its place on his face.  “Harry, that is your _half sister_ , _”_ he hissed, attempting to assert his authority.

Harry took one last look at the woman and her—her and his _father_ ’ _s_ —daughter, her chubby fingers grabbing onto her mother’s sweater as she held some plastic toy between her teeth.  Harry cleared his throat before turning back in the direction he was headed in order to leave, hands still crossed over his chest.  He left without another word, feeling tremendously betrayed and lied to all the way back to the car, because he had been absolutely _right_.  In a way though, he was still pretty wrong, because he had predicted his father had shoved him to the side in order to let go of him and move on with his life, but nowhere in Harry’s predictions had he envisioned an _entire_ fucking family that his father was hiding.  It was fine, Harry concluded.  He, Gemma, and his mother were going to do just fine without him ever communicating with them again.

Harry had always been worried about his dad eventually forgetting about him after the divorce, but he was going to have to stay strong and get over it.  He clearly was no longer important in many people’s lives.

He didn’t acknowledge the tears that filled his eyes as he took the significantly longer drive back to his place.  He struggled not to think about it, to silence his mind as he pulled into the parking lot and stalked up to his floor.  He buried his face in the couch of his living room that he had grown so familiar with, since that was where he spent most of his time nowadays, since literally _nobody_ cared about anymore.

The saying that “life could change in an instant” was one that Harry never really took seriously, but he now realized that such a statement rang true, seeing that now he found himself alone and miserable, when just about a month ago, he’d had a nice girlfriend, a best friend, and a father who cared about him.

He eventually moved the moping festivities to his bedroom, spending the remainder of the day in his bed, despite the fact that it was only the beginning of the evening.  He continued to bury his face in his pillow until night time came around, and after a few more hours, he finally got to experience the pleasure of sleeping in order to escape his thoughts.

When he woke up in the morning, it was Saturday, and in honor of the most festive day of the week, Harry had decided to switch things up and instead drag his duvet out to the living room so he could continue his despondent sulk into the cushions of the couch.

It was nearing three p.m. in the afternoon when he’d finally blinked his crusted eyes open after a nap, feeling thoroughly exhausted and ready to spend several more hours moping.  A solid amount of time was spent blinking at nothing, contemplating the mistakes he’d made in order to end up at such an unfortunate place in his life.

It was around four when he finally detached his sweaty body from the couch, deciding that not taking a shower would probably rule himself as a person who was slowly slipping into depression.  He took quite a long time washing up, and by the time he’d pulled his sweatpants on and began to shuffle into the kitchen for something edible, his phone vibrated from the couch.

A heavy groan fell out of his mouth as he opened the refrigerator and leaned forward in order to scan it with his eyes.  The loud vibrations of his phone continued unnecessarily loud in his eardrums.

“Go away.  I’m sulking,” Harry whined before pulling a pineapple out from the plastic container and shoving it in his mouth.  “I’m going through an actual _hardship_ right now.”

After fifteen minutes passed, Harry came to realize that his phone had been ringing nonstop, so he pushed himself up from the kitchen table because of the pure fact that it could’ve been an actual emergency.  Once he reached the device and Louis’ name was flashing across the screen, he rolled his eyes and contemplated going back to the kitchen, because he was well accustomed to how dramatic Louis was when he didn’t need to be.

He chose to answer it anyway, because as much as he would’ve liked to, he could _never_ reject a call from Louis—no matter how annoying or melodramatic.

“Harry,” Louis said, followed by heavy breaths coming through the phone as though he’d gotten done running.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “What…?”

“I’m on the corner of Eighth Avenue and Sycamore Street,” Louis said hurriedly.  “Come _now_.”

Harry twisted his face in confusion as he squinted his eyes, his mind not being able to comprehend how ridiculous Louis was being.  “Excuse me?”

“Harry, I’m hurt,” Louis said, the pain in his voice only _now_ becoming evident.  “I’m _bleeding_.”

Harry’s feet were already moving by the end of his sentence, shuffling over to his sneakers near the couch in order to slip his feet into them.  “Fuck—where are you?  Wait—you told me—just…stay there.  I’m coming, okay?”

“Okay,” Louis replied, sounding small and frail.

Harry cursed himself for not dashing to answer his phone the second it had begun vibrating.  His head was spinning with panic as he took rushed steps down the stairs of his apartment complex, nearly tripping on the second to last step.  The wind against his skin caused him to realize he wasn’t even wearing a shirt as he practically ran to his car, feeling that every second that he wasn’t near Louis was a second closer to losing him for good.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Harry breathed as he drove, finding himself stuck behind a slow car.  He felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and he pulled his phone out of his sweatpants in order to call Louis again instead of acknowledging the fact that he’d gone _months_ without crying, and had now cried twice in one week.

He tried not to panic when Louis didn’t answer, and instead reached behind him in order to retrieve a jacket he’d left in the backseat.  He slipped it on, pulling the zipper up as he attempted to get all of his vivid, horrifying worries to subside.

When he finally reached his destination, he could feel his hands vibrating with anxiety once Louis was nowhere to be found.  He parked his car on the curb and got out, determined to start screaming his name just like the first time—but he was stopped by some guy running up to him with an excited look on his face.

“Harry!  Great, you’re here.  Follow me,” he said, pulling Harry along and sufficiently leaving him perplexed.  This guy was definitely in one of his classes, and they’d spoken once or twice about ridiculous deadlines, but that was it.  “I’m _looking_ for somebody!  Let me _go_!”

“I know where Louis is,” he said calmly, continuing to pull Harry along with quick, happy feet.

Harry allowed himself to be pulled toward a small wooden building at the end of the street that he could’ve sworn was a recreation center for lodging.  Harry’s feet were thoroughly hesitant as they took the few stairs up toward the building, the sound of his heartbeat becoming prominent in his ears.  His paranoia grew exponentially once they entered through the front door and it was dark, as well as _completely_ silent.  “What the fuck is this?  _Where_ is—“

“ _Surprise!_ ”

Harry’s heart ceased to beat for a moment as he clutched his chest.

Every single light came on and the room was now filled with dozens and dozens of faces that Harry had either spoken to or knew pretty well, including Marcus, Liam, Niall, and most noticeably Louis, who stood in the very front with a party hat on and extended arms.

Harry let his shoulders down, looking around at all the people staring at him with expectant smiles, confetti falling over their faces and the scent of strawberry cake somewhere off in the distance.

“It’s my…” Harry started, knitting his eyebrows together as he let out a few breaths, probably exhausted from the pure terror of thinking _Louis_ was in fucking danger.  “It’s my…It’s my birthday.”

He’d completely forgotten it was February.  No doubt, he was definitely at a low point in his life.

“Yep!  It is!” Louis yelled, followed by more screams and popping of confetti and blowing of kazoos and—this was all way too much. Too many people staring at him, too many fucking things on his mind, too much of Louis’ torso exposed because of the fact that he was wearing _another_ cropped tee—this one being red.

Louis stepped forward as people started finally moving around him, getting right into the party mood.  The boy placed a colorful birthday hat on his head, making sure the elastic clung to the bottom of his chin.  He slowed his movements once he realized Harry hadn’t even cracked a fraction of a grin.

“Harry,” Louis said, moving Harry’s chin so he could face him.  “You alright?”

Harry opened his mouth, but only a choked sound came out as he burned under the pressure of all the gazes set upon him.  He shook his head before turning and walking away, starting down one of the lengthy hallways of the lodge and up the stairs. He swung open the first door he saw, letting himself inside the random room with a huff.  He felt like screaming, or crying, or punching something, or maybe doing all three.  Instead, he threw himself on the water bed at the edge of the room, scooting all the way up to the corner of it and bringing his knees to his chest, finally allowing some of the tears to fall.

There were a number of things he could’ve been crying about at the moment, such as the fact that he was wearing a colorful retro jacket and sweats at his _own_ birthday party, or the sole, horrid fact that he’d been so down in the dumps that he’d forgotten his _own_ birthday.

There was a foosball table in the corner of the room, as well as a pile of gift bags and envelopes smushed against the wall near the door.  All for him, and he’d forgotten about his birthday.

He could hear the sounds of several people playing what sounded like a dancing video game underneath him, the even louder sounds of music and clapping, and then Louis’ loud, attention grabbing yells as he seemed to be shouting something at Liam.  Harry sniffled and brought his knees even closer to his chest, feeling sufficiently desolate as he cried and wished everyone would leave him alone.

His eyes might have been deceiving him, but he could’ve sworn that within the sea of faces, he’d seen Cecile, which in and of itself, was entirely more than he wanted to face that day.

Somehow, seeing all those people in one place for him had the opposite effect they’d probably hoped, because it immediately caused him to remember why he hadn’t been thinking about and planning for his birthday.  They were going to have fun and party their asses off whether Harry had shown up or not—the proof was literally downstairs, right underneath him.  They didn’t care about him.  They just wanted free booze and an opportunity to grind against each other to bass heavy music.  No one cared.

He continued to quietly sob into his knees, making sure not to let any sound escape his lips while doing so.  He felt that technically, if his cries weren’t heard or seen, it meant he didn’t actually cry.  Of course, such a thing wasn’t true, but for _now_ , he was going to pretend it was.

Harry’s head was buried in his arms when the door to the room opened, letting in the festive outside noise, before closing.  Harry had stopped crying, although his eyes were still red and his cheeks were wetly stained.  He lifted his eyes and sniffled at the sight of Louis, along with his god forsaken crop top and baggy track pants.  He _knew_ what he was doing to Harry.

The boy seemed reluctant to walk to the bed Harry was on, but he did anyway, with slow, cautious steps as his eyes held a hint of sympathy behind them.

“Hey…” Louis started, his voice barely above a whisper.  “What’s wrong?”

Harry didn’t reply, choosing rather to swallow the lump in his throat as Louis took a seat by him on the bed.  The feeling of Louis’ hand softly being placed on Harry’s back, rubbing it comfortingly as he stared intently at the side of his face, caused his body to go less tense, and he let his knees down, stretching out his legs in front of him on the bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Harry,” Louis practically whispered.

“If I do, I’ll be talking for hours,” Harry replied weakly, finally bringing his eyes to meet Louis’ wide, concerned ones.

Louis nodded knowingly, scooting in closer to Harry, who tried his best to contain himself and not pull Louis flush against his body.  “I understand.”

Harry scratched at the sheets on the bed, beginning to wonder who had rented out this place, and starting to feel even worse about not taking the time to appreciate the nice gesture.

“I found out the worst news of my entire life,” Harry said, his eyes narrowing down at the bed in thought.

Louis scoffed.  “Of your _entire life_?  That’s gotta be an exaggeration.”

Harry brought his eyes back to Louis’ and shook his head at him.  “It’s not.”

“Then I guess I’ll take your word for it,” Louis replied with a single nod.  “You’ll tell me later?”

“Maybe,” Harry answered, eyes now drifting down to Louis’ cropped tee, then trailing down to his track pants, before finally settling upon the festive, colorful socks on his feet.

“I like what you’re wearing,” Harry added as an afterthought.

It seemed as though the sun had come out of hiding when a proud grin spread across Louis’ face, his eyes brightening.  “I knew you would.”

Harry’s lips parted for a moment as he laid a single hand on Louis’ knee, simply placing it there.  “You put on the shirt for me?”

“I loved that dazed look you had the first time I wore it,” Louis started, shifting so that his weight was on his hands.  “You literally couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Are you sure that’s true or are you just stroking your own ego?” Harry asked, trying not to notice the increased speed of his heartbeat once Louis swung one of his legs over Harry so that he was now sat on top of his thighs.

“No.  You were practically drooling,” Louis said, his voice now incredibly low as he spoke close to Harry’s face.  “I notice everything, remember?”

Harry brought his knees up a little, which caused gravity to slide Louis down until he was right up against his crotch, and he wasn’t sure if that was exactly what he had wanted to happen, or if it was just an accidental thing that happened because Harry decided to shift his legs.  Either way, Louis’ mouth hung open a bit now, and he was staring Harry dead in the eyes.

“Guess that’s how you noticed I’m sad,” Harry said, choosing not to acknowledge the way they were positioned right now.

Louis shook his head as he placed one hand on Harry’s shoulder, the other on the side of his neck.  “Well—everybody pretty much noticed that.  You walked out on your own birthday party.”

The thought made Harry feel horrible, the emotions and self deprecating thoughts starting to crawl their way back into his mind.  He leaned his weight behind him on the palms of his hands, trying his best to dodge Louis’ intent gaze.

“Harry—Harry, look at me,” Louis said, his eyes following Harry’s every move.

Harry eventually succumbed to his stare, glassy eyes meeting blue as he let out a deep, exhausted breath.

Louis’ words filled the air gently as they kept their eyes wholly locked on one another, Harry’s chin tilted up in order to properly look at him.  “I don’t want you to be sad on your birthday,” Louis practically whispered.

As if on instinct, Harry’s hands came up to softly grip the material of Louis’ trackies at his hips with some sort of strange desire that gushed out of him at the most random of times.

“I don’t want to be sad on my birthday,” Harry replied, somehow making his voice even softer than Louis’.

Without another word, Louis took Harry’s face in his hands and leaned down to kiss him, starting off with soft pecks as though he was testing something out, evaluating how efficiently their lips fit against one another.  Harry’s lips chased his after each peck, his neck straining with a need for their mouths to seal themselves together again.

There obviously weren’t many kisses of theirs Harry could compare this to, but this one was pretty amazing, because it wasn’t the first time, so they weren’t slow and confused, and it also wasn’t the second time, so Louis wasn’t going to slip and fall on a shoe at any given point.  They had this entire moment to themselves, so they let their lips caress one another’s without rush, taking their time as they continued to breathe into each other’s mouths.

Harry didn’t think about how every kiss was only going to make things worse for him, or how he was clearly using this as a means of distraction.  All he knew was that this was what his body wanted right now, so he wasn’t going to stop it.

He even seemed to shock himself when the faintest noise fell out of his lips once he felt Louis’ tongue delicately brush against his.  It was the first time Harry had ever tasted him, and it quickly turned into the second time, and then the third time, and eventually they were properly french kissing, which was something Harry’d never done with anyone before.

He weaved one of his hands through Louis’ hair, messing it up as his other hand slid up to the exposed warm skin on Louis’ waist.  When Harry pressed his tongue into Louis’ mouth with a bit more force and the boy let out a noise, Harry was faced with more _want_ than he’d ever experienced before—a _want_ for something he wasn’t even sure of.

He allowed Louis to slowly unzip his jacket, leaving slivers of his chest underneath open to the cold air, and Harry placed both of his hands in Louis’ hair in order to deepen the kiss, taste as much of Louis as he could before their lips would inevitably part.  The knowledge that the moment would eventually end brought him a slight pang of dread.  He didn’t _ever_ want it to end.

A random thought crossed his mind as Louis’ fingertips trailed down Harry’s bare torso, and Harry’s eyebrows knit together in contemplation when they parted lips in order to get a second to breathe.

“Cecile’s right downstairs,” Harry breathed, a questioning look now on his face.

Louis’ eyes finally opened, and he backed his face away from Harry’s an inch, his hands ceasing to rub down Harry’s skin.  “Oh.  I didn’t realize you were still—“

“Wait, no—I’m not,” Harry quickly replied, not even finishing his own sentence before cutting himself off with a smacking kiss against Louis’ lips.  He rested his back against the bed frame, bringing Louis down with him as they continued to snog each other’s faces.

Louis’ lips somehow parted with his and settled upon his jaw, providing Harry with internal surges of desire from the feeling of hot kisses against his skin.  Harry took his bottom lip in his mouth and gripped Louis’ shirt as the boy nosed at his neck, taking gentle whiffs as Harry’s eyebrows furrowed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the side of Harry’s neck until his lips were on top of Harry’s chest, and he began giving his skin long, drawn out pecks as Harry held onto him with everything he had.

In that moment, Harry would’ve let Louis have him in anyway he wanted.  With his soft lips sucking wetly at his chest, trailing down with a practiced gentleness that had Harry holding back a moan, Harry would’ve given him _everything_ , and that terrified him.

The _only_ thing that caused order to be brought back into the world, common sense to be restored in Harry’s mind, was the fact that the door flew open and Louis paused his kissing.  Neither of them moved their positions however; Louis only turned his head in order to see who this person was that had walked in on them.  Harry was still highly aroused and confused about why they’d stopped, fingers itching to pull Louis back down so his lips could meet his skin once again.

Harry lifted his eyes to find Liam, stood at the door, recognizable even in his hungry, hazy vision.  Louis let out an annoyed sigh, both of them indifferent as they stared at him, although Louis seemed to be a bit more on the irritated side.

Liam appeared as though he’d been caught red handed with how many times his mouth opened and closed.  Harry, however, was highly over it and ready to get back to what he and Louis had been doing.

“Um.  Uh,” Liam finally managed to say, one hand still gripping the doorknob tightly.  “They’re cutting the cake without you.  I tried to tell them to wait but…they just are.  Sorry to, uh…interrupt.  I’ll go.”  He didn’t wait for any of their replies before quickly closing the door behind himself and probably running down the stairs at maximum speed.

“I’m gonna make sure they don’t cut it without you, those dickheads,” Louis said with a groan, sliding off of Harry and causing him to bite his tongue when he immediately wanted to let out a whine.  “Come down soon, yeah?”

Harry wanted to say _fuck that fucking cake, just come back here_ , but he realized this was a sign from up above.  Who _knows_ what he would’ve done with Louis if they hadn’t gotten stopped?  He had no other choice but to watch Louis as he got off of the bed, admire his curves as he approached the door and walked right out of it.

Once Harry was alone, he brought his eyes down to his lap and realized that he now had a _different_ problem to face, because if anyone else barged into the room, they’d definitely be able to notice he was already having quite the party in his pants.

In order to fix this problem, he remained in the same position for a while, gradually bringing his mind back to a competent, decision-making state, and feeling much better than he was before Louis had walked in the room.  He was in fact, more eager to celebrate his birthday now, even though they were probably downstairs blowing his candles out for him.

He eventually shuffled out of the bed and zipped his jacket up in order to head downstairs and join the masses.  He was met with joyful cheers once he maneuvered his way through the bodies, making his way toward the center table where the cake was located. Surprisingly, it was still untouched, presumably thanks to Louis.  Harry hid a shy smile in his shoulder as the whole room sang to him, and he temporarily forgot about the heavy sadness he’d originally been feeling in his chest and allowed himself to be happy.  As he was blowing out the candles and wishing that his dad would care about him again, out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but notice someone latched onto Niall’s side, who could’ve been none other than the one guy that couldn’t stay away from him.  Harry’s eyes lingered on Zayn for a moment, and he stared back with indifferent eyes, before averting his attention and whispering something in Niall’s ear.

Pretty soon, the party went back into effect, and the people dispersed to their respective areas, the only difference being that now they were holding plates of strawberry cake in their hands.  Everyone looked pretty ridiculous with the party hats on, leading Harry to remember he’d still had his own on as well.  The thought caused him to giggle as he watched his surroundings, taking in how much fun everyone was having in honor of him.  Sure, many of them could’ve probably cared less about his birthday, but they were there, so Harry would take it.

When his gaze shifted over to the outside balcony at the back of the room, through the blur of moving bodies and heads, he could see Cecile standing out there, a red solo cup in hand as she seemed uncertain of what to do with herself.  It truly meant a lot to Harry that she was even there, and he’d spent a substantial amount of time thinking about how terribly things ended between them, so he took it as his moment to hash things out so that he wouldn’t regret not saying anything later.

He joined her where she was alone outside, the sun having gone down and the sky casting moonlight upon the both of them.  She was clearly caught off guard as she turned around, and upon noticing Harry, she flashed him a shy smile as she tossed some of her hair behind her shoulders.

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle.

Harry pursed his lips together as he walked up to the railing of the balcony next to her, placing hesitant hands on top of it.  “Hi.  I’m surprised you came.”

Cecile quirked one eyebrow up at him, swishing around the drink in her cup.  “Why wouldn’t I come?”  She stood at a considerable distance, seemingly unsure of how close she should get to him.  Harry had no idea how they were supposed to do this, so he chose not to comment on how near or far they stood.

“I dunno,” Harry started, scratching under the elastic band of the party hat that was now beginning to dig into his skin.  There was nothing but silence for a few moments, only the muffled sounds of the party through the glass doors and Cecile’s uneven breaths.  Harry spoke after a few more moments of silence that somehow, weren’t awkward.  “I don’t like the way we ended.”

It was as though Cecile let out a breath she had been holding in as she began to speak in a quick fashion.  “I’m still so, _so_ sorry Harry.  It was all my fault.”

Harry chose to simply shake his head as she continued to speak, knowing whatever he had to say wouldn’t suffice in order to let her know he _didn’t need_ her apologies.

“It’s just—I dunno,” she continued.  “I just sort of _slipped_ up with Marcus and…and there was something off with you and me, and I know I should’ve just broken it off but—I’m sorry.  I don’t do anything with him anymore.  I feel _terrible_ , and—“

“I feel more terrible,” Harry cut in, turning to the side to look at her.  She finally quieted down, her eyes big with confusion as she stared back at him.

“Why?”

“Because I…” Harry started, gesturing vaguely with his hands.  “I didn’t…feel anything.  When I saw you guys.  It didn’t hurt me, and it kind of…made me realize I…”  Harry was struggling to voice exactly what he knew was true, because he didn’t want to come off harsh in case Cecile had been head over heels in love with him—he wasn’t a _douche_.  “I guess I… _did_ like you, but not in that way.  We shouldn’t have dated, I think.”

“I feel that way too,” she said, her tone gentle.  “Of course, I didn’t realize it until it was too late, and I tried to force something that wasn’t there.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, followed by more quietude that was completely relaxed, the air between them less dense.  He finally turned and fully faced his body toward her, his elbow rested on top of the railing as she looked up at him with hopeful eyes.  Her red hair was messier than she usually wore it, although it suited her much better.

“I don’t want you to think I didn’t like you at _all,_ ” Harry said, reaching out to touch her on the shoulder.  “I did.  I think you’re really cool, and I appreciated you as a friend.  You’re not a girl I just used and decided to throw away.”

Cecile grinned happily, reaching up to caress Harry’s wrist.  “I feel the exact same way.  I just didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me.”

“I don’t have many people to talk to,” Harry admitted, one of his dimples appearing as he curled his wrist around in order to grasp her hand.  “Friends?”

“Friends,” Cecile nodded, leaning forward to bump her forehead against his.

Harry was now feeling more content than he had been in quite a while and he’d almost forgotten about why he was even sad in the first place.

Cecile turned her head toward the doors as she grasped his hand lightly, swaying it between them.  She narrowed her eyes for a moment as she stared into the party, which was far from winding down anytime soon.

“Louis’ your soulmate, right?” she asked, completely throwing Harry off as he bit his bottom lip in surprise.

“What?” Harry asked, even though he was well aware of what she’d said.

She turned back to him, giving a teasing grin as she nodded her head knowingly.  “Louis.  He’s obviously your soulmate.”  She grew more excited once Harry didn't offer any blatant answer.  “He _is_ , isn’t he?” she asked amusedly.

“What makes you think that?” Harry asked with a roll of his eyes.

“We were figuring out ways to get you to come here, and immediately, everyone suggested we use Louis as bait,” Cecile explained.  “Louis said you _always_ answer when he calls.”

“Well, that’s because he’s my friend,” Harry said, his voice less than convincing.

“He’s also the only reason you even came downstairs,” Cecile added matter-of-factly.

“Still, a friendly gesture.”

“And he keeps looking over here every two seconds.”

Her words caused Harry to shift his eyes to the side, only to find Louis, who was a considerable distance away from the doors, speaking with some people whilst looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye in a pretty sneaky fashion.  Any regular person wouldn’t have even been able to notice Louis’ sly, casual glances unless they were paying specific attention.  The boy quickly averted his eyes once he noticed Harry grinning dumbly at him, and turned his attention fully to the conversation he was having, taking a casual sip of his drink.

The dorky smile was still upon Harry’s face when he turned back to face Cecile, feeling significantly lighter.  “Yeah, he’s kinda possessive.”

She shared a knowing smile with him in return. It was clear she was genuinely happy for him, and it hit Harry that this was the first time he’d ever shared this secret with anyone.  It was positively refreshing, getting to stand there and fucking _smile_ about the fact that his soulmate, whom he absolutely adored, was right there.  He couldn’t even describe how great of a feeling it was to be able to stand there and be happy about it.

Harry’s mood went down after a while of smiling, because he brought himself back to reality.  “He doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Cecile asked, sincere concern in her features.

Harry shook his head once, looking down between their feet.  “He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t feel anything.”

“How do you know that’s true?” Cecile asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I just do,” Harry replied.  “He’s a very casual guy.  All of the… _stuff_ we do means nothing to him, because he doesn’t put any importance on it.”

“Harry, the energy between you two is undeniable.  I mean, literally _anyone_ could feel it,” Cecile said, her tone serious.  “He _will_ come around.  That’s the thing about soulmates—whether it be tomorrow, or in thirty years, he _will_ come around.”

 _Thirty years?_ Harry tried to ignore the fact that she even said that.  He was many things, but he was not a patient person.

She let out an easy sigh as she pursed her lips together, tilting her head at Harry.  “Maybe someday I’ll meet mine.”

“I hope you do,” Harry replied.

“But for now, I’ll just be happy for you,” Cecile said with a grin.  She leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek, before giving him a light pinch on the side.  “Now go and give Louis attention before he burns my head off with his eyes.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed, giving her hand one last squeeze before turning around to open the doors of the balcony, allowing all the music to flood in.

Louis was no longer where he originally was, and Harry had to do a significant amount of searching in order to find him.  He eventually found him in the hallway, struggling with getting his hat off as he groaned in frustration.  Harry took him by surprise when he hugged him from behind, bringing a gasp out from between his lips.

“Harry, you scared me!” Louis yelled, even though it was more of an amused laugh.  “Get off of me!”

Harry just held him closer, smiling into his neck as he wrapped his arms around the boy’s torso.  “You _love_ this.”

“If by ‘love’ you mean ‘hate’,” Louis replied boredly, turning around in Harry’s arms. Harry held him more loosely, allowing space between them as Louis caressed his forearms.  “What’s got you all touchy feely?”

“I want to thank you for throwing this party for me,” Harry said, the smile on his face almost painful now.  “It means a lot.”

“Although I would love to take all the credit, it wasn’t only me,” Louis replied, stroking his hand up and down Harry’s arm.  “It was all of the boys.”

Harry allowed his mind to think for a moment, blinking blankly as his arms remained around Louis’ waist.  “Even Zayn?”

Louis nodded assuredly.  “Yep.  Even Zayn.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

“I’ve gotta say, I’m disappointed in you,” Harry said, followed by a sigh as he sat in his bed with his laptop on his lap.

Gemma’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion as Harry watched her through the video chat window.  She still had the new leather boots she had been boasting about dangling in front of her face.  “Why?”

“What about the animals?” Harry asked, turning his head in the direction of Louis when he heard the boy knock something over on his dresser.  “The animals, Gemma.  They died so you could have those boots.”

Gemma gasped overdramatically as she continued to ogle at her shoes in adoration.  “When did you turn into a hippie, Haz?  Everyone knows faux leather is the cheap stuff.”

He heard Louis’ quiet snickers from where he was leaned over Harry’s dresser, making faces at himself in the mirror.  Harry bit back a grin before turning his eyes back to Gemma, feeling weary of the fact that he was dancing around the important part of why they were even talking right now.

“ _Wow_ , Gems,” Harry said, his voice more passionate now.  “Can’t believe I have such an inconsiderate sister.”

Gemma yawned into her fist as she stared at Harry with bored eyes.  “Shame on me for doing it for _fashion,_ goodness’ sake.”

“You _should_ be ashamed,” Harry replied.

“And what’s got you so full of attitude?” Gemma asked defensively, her eyebrows knit together.  “Wasn’t your birthday just a few days ago?  Did you not celebrate well?”

Harry shook his head toward the end of her sentence, looking down at his lap in order to restrain himself from sharing eye contact with Louis.  “No—It was nice.  Kinda.”  The way Louis’ head immediately flicked around, his eyes giving Harry a warning glare, caused Harry to change his answer.  “It was _amazing_ , actually.  But I just…wasn’t in the best mood.”

“Only _you_ could still have something to complain about after having a perfectly good birthday,” Gemma said with a roll of her eyes.  “Remember when you used to insist your birthday lasted the entire week?  And mum actually went along with it?”

Louis was now fully turned around, amusement clear on his face as he rested his head on his fist and laughed at Harry.  Harry could already infer what he was thinking; _Wow, so you’ve always been this way, haven’t you, Harold_?  (Harry hated the fact that the boy called him Harold, despite knowing that it was in fact, not the elongated version of his name.  He also hated the fact that he kind of really liked it.)

“No, just—be quiet,” Harry started, shaking his head quickly.  “This isn’t about me being haughty.”

“That’s a first,” Gemma giggled.

Harry flashed her a fake, tight lipped grin as she continued to chuckle and Louis skipped over to the armchair that was in the corner of his bedroom.

“This is about _dad_ ,” Harry said, his voice lowering an octave.

Gemma finally went quiet for what Harry felt was the first time in her life, and she stared at Harry with concern across her face.  “Dad?  What’s wrong with him?  Is he okay?”

“No,” Harry replied, causing Gemma to become properly worried.

“Tell me what happened.”

Harry let his eyes shut and released a deep breath, hoping the feeling of utter betrayal and disgust wouldn’t surge through his body again once he had to relive that moment.

“He…he met a lady,” Harry started, picking at the cotton on his sweatpants.  “And…well, I guess they’re together?  They have to be, because they—they have a baby.  Dad has a baby.  A whole daughter.”

Silence on Gemma’s side of the video chat lasted long enough for Harry to bring his eyes back up, trying to figure out her reaction to this unforeseen news.  He was displeased to find that she appeared thoroughly indifferent, blinking at him through tired eyes.

“That’s it, Harry?”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed once before he spoke again.  “What do you mean _that’s it_?  The man’s got a brand new family without even as much as telling us!  Does that not offend you in some way?”

“Well,” Gemma started, her eyes wondering somewhere off screen.  “I always kind of…knew.  I just didn’t mention anything, because I didn’t want to start some kind of family drama.  I knew that he’d tell us when he felt the time was right.”

“So you’re telling me you _knew_ , but didn’t say anything about it?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Okay, I _thought_ I knew!” Gemma exclaimed.  “I wasn’t going to run around announcing something that wasn’t even confirmed!  And you were already bumming yourself out over dad not having enough time for you, so I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Thanks, Gemma,” Harry started,  his tone drenched in sarcasm.  “Because I feel _much_ better now that I had to find out _myself_ , with my own two eyes.  I could’ve gone my whole _life_ without seeing his new family, but _no_ , you couldn’t tell me beforehand—“

“How is this _my_ fault?” Gemma asked, throwing a hand in the air.  “I was trying to look out for _you_.”

Harry latched his teeth onto his bottom lip in order to stifle anything that wanted to rush out of him, and he shook his head as he shifted his focus to watch Louis pick up his guitar from the corner of the room.

“And I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” Harry said, his voice much softer now as he continued to look away from his laptop screen.  “Even with dad keeping it a secret—“

“He told me the day you found out,” Gemma replied.  “Of course, he was probably going to tell us at a _better time_ until you bombarded him—“

“I can’t believe you’re so calm about it,” Harry continued, his ears not having listened to a word of Gemma’s sentence.  “As if you don’t even care.  Maybe _you’re_ closer with mum, but I’m very close to _both_ of them, which is probably why this actually has some kind of effect on me.”

Gemma’s lips parted as she stared through the screen, probably taken aback by Harry’s hostility.  “ _I’m_ close to both of them too.  The difference is that I’m more mature than you, and I know that we need to give dad space to fucking _grow_.  He can’t put his life on pause because of a divorce and the fact that his son can’t handle him dating anyone else.  No one wants to be alone forever, Harry.  _No one_.  And I wouldn’t want that for dad.”

Harry didn’t reply as he kept his eyes on the bed, making sure Gemma understood that he was still, and was always going to be, stubborn about this whole situation.  No matter what this girl could say to try and convince him his dad was in the right, Harry was always going to be mad about it.

Gemma let out a long, exhausted sigh as she shifted on the couch she was sitting on, keeping her eyes glued to the screen.  “Harry, you’ve got to realize that it’s not all about you.”

Harry couldn’t continue his stubborn stance as he rubbed his palm down his face, frustration taking over him once he stared back at the screen.  “Why does everyone keep acting like I’m a spoiled brat?”

“ _Because you are,_ ” came Louis’ voice, melodic and spontaneous as he strummed chords on his guitar, taking a seat on the edge of the boy’s bed.  Harry narrowed his eyes at him momentarily before turning back to face Gemma, who was now laughing into her sleeve.

“I’m gonna hang up now,” Harry said monotonously, his hands already braced on either side of the laptop screen.

“Wait—introduce me to your friend.  I feel like I could get along with him,” Gemma replied, her eyes sparkling with interest just as Harry closed the screen on her.

“She’s annoying,” Harry muttered to himself as he placed his laptop on top of the desk next to his bed.

Louis continued strumming random notes that somehow flew perfectly together as he sat on Harry’s bed.  “ _She seems lovely to me_ ,” he sang, swaying his head in Harry’s direction as a smile grew on his face.

“Please. No more sing-talking,” Harry begged, pushing the sheets off of himself.  “It’ll get annoying fast.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” Louis started, slipping the guitar off of his body and setting it so that it leaned against the bed.

Harry blinked as he scooted down to the foot of the bed so he could be seated next to Louis.  “Obviously,” he nodded.

Louis pursed his lips for a moment, swinging his feet underneath him as he stared contemplatively at Harry.  “So is that what you were so down about—your dad?”  Louis asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, gradually nodding his head as he maintained eye contact with Louis.  A part inside of him wanted the topic to stop being brought up so he could take a break from dwelling on how forgotten he now was in his father’s life, but it’d been quite a while since he’d been granted anything he wanted.

“Seriously,” Louis said bluntly.  “That’s why you ran out on a party _I_ thought to throw you and sulked in a bed?”

Harry’s neutral mood swiftly changed into defensive as he grew tired of Louis’ judgmental facial expressions.  “ _Hey_.  You don’t understand, okay?  So don’t look at me like that.”

“I _do_ understand, Harry,” Louis replied, shifting so one of his legs was on the bed.  “I understand that you are absolutely ridiculous.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together as he took offense, all the while Louis’ expression continued to remain just as indifferent.

“What are you more upset about?” Louis asked.  “The fact that he kept it a secret, or the fact that it even happened?”

Harry didn’t even need to ponder the question before answering.  “The fact that it _happened_ of course!  I _hate_ that he’s dating, I _hate_ that he has a daughter, and I’m tired of people making me think I should feel bad about that.”

“You _should_ —“

Harry shook his head as he looked down at his knees, already moving to get up.  “Whatever Louis, if you’re just gonna sit there and—“

Harry’s movements were halted by an abrupt tug on his shoulder, pulling him back down aggressively.  Harry sucked in a breath as Louis moved to stand over him, his eyes burning with infuriation.

“I’m not finished, _dickhead_ ,” Louis hissed, his words sharp and daring.  “You’re telling me, that you’re angry at your father, for having a fucking _child_?”

Harry grew less confident in himself as Louis loomed over him, his intense stare weighing Harry down like an anchor.  “I—yeah.  An entire daughter—”

“Yet he still did his fucking _best_ to be there for you, Harry!” Louis yelled, throwing Harry off guard as he quickly shut his mouth.  He wasn’t expecting Louis to be so passionate about it; he hadn’t even known the boy had been listening so closely.  Nevertheless, he still wasn’t going to invalidate Harry’s emotions about this situation.

“ _You_ don’t know!” Harry yelled, his eyes beginning to slightly burn.  “You don’t fucking know, so don’t try and tell me—“

“Harry, you’re genuinely going to sit here and never talk to your dad again, forgetting about the many, _many_ ways he’s provided for you all throughout your life?  Forgetting that he’s the reason you’re even _here_ right now?” Louis asked with wide eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms and tried to swallow his emotions.  “How’d you know I wasn’t ever going to talk to him again?”

Louis ran a stressful hand through his hair as he began pacing back and forth in front of Harry.  “Because you’re a fucking drama queen, Harry.  I’ve only known you for a few months and I’m _already_ aware of that.”

“I’m not a drama queen,” Harry replied, his voice noticeably weaker.  He was feeling torn in two because he knew that his hurt feelings were justifiable, but on the other hand everyone around him was making this seem like it was no big deal.  It _was_ a big deal—a huge deal, and it wasn’t fucking _fair_ that everyone continued to trivialize it.

Was it so _wrong_ for him to dislike the fact that his father had a new daughter, almost to the point of disliking the little girl _herself_?  She _was_ only a few months old, so Harry could see the fault in _that_ aspect of his discontentment, but he couldn’t help what he felt.

Louis finally ceased his steps across the carpet and brought himself in front of Harry, resting his palms on both of the boy’s knees as he looked at him with stern eyes.  “Harry.  Listen to me.  You’re an ungrateful fuck.  And you know why?  Because you have both parents that are _there_ for you, a father who _freaking_ did all he could to tend to you while taking care of a newborn, and you still aren’t satisfied.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he wasn’t quite sure of what he wanted to say.  He also had the feeling that if he said anything else, his words would be accompanied by tears.  Lately, his eyes seemed as though they were making up for all the years Harry had spent keeping his emotions locked away.

“I _have_ my mum, and I love her, but…” Louis started, his eyes breaking gaze with Harry’s for just a moment.  He shook his head a bit and brought his focus back to the boy in front of him.  “Did I ever tell you that my dad left when I came out?”

Harry’s lips parted, his eyes glossy and wide as he stared at Louis, even with how close the boy was to him.  He didn’t know how to respond to that—at least not _verbally_.  What he really wanted to do was pull Louis into a hug and squeeze him so hard that he forgot about anyone who had ever made him feel like less than he was.

“Really?” was all he managed to breathe out.

Louis nodded, obviously doing his best to maintain his assertive composure.  “He and my mum already weren’t getting along, and I guess me being me was the final straw.  But that’s not the point, the _point_ is….” Louis started, lifting one of his hands off of Harry’s knee in order to scratch at the side of his neck as he thought.  “You don’t realize how lucky you are to have _both_ parents who still devote their time to taking care of you.  Both parents who make you feel important.  A lot of people don’t have that.”

Harry’s mouth opened and he was certain he had something valuable to say this time, but Louis stood back up straight to continue his pacing, and he started to speak again.

“This music, Harry,” Louis started, his eyes focused on the ground and his palms clasped together.  It seemed as though he was talking to himself rather than Harry, but Harry listened intently nonetheless.  “It’s all I _have_.  It’s all I want.  I don’t come from money, and I would fall into a depression being anything other than a musician. I just—I can’t do anything else, because I barely even have enough money to keep going to school as it is.  You have options, Harry.  So much flexibility, so many opportunities for success—your parents made sure of that.  Because they love you.”

Harry let out a deep breath once Louis had stopped talking and paused his steps.

He held his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment as he reflected on all that Louis had verbalized.  “I didn’t think of it that way,” he said, his voice low and raspy.  “And I’m sorry…about your dad.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Louis replied sternly.  “Now go and fucking _appreciate_ your new sister, apologize to your dad, and stop being a douchebag.”

Harry lifted a finger in the air.  “Okay mister, you have called me _way_ too many hurtful names in the past five minutes—“

“If you don’t get your shoes on right this minute I’ll drag you to your dad’s house,” Louis interrupted, already moving to grab Harry’s jacket that was hung up against the door.

“Okay, okay,” Harry replied, his jacket hitting him in the face as he moved to slip on his shoes.  “Can you come with me?”

He looked up from tying his shoes to find Louis scratching his scalp, a contemplative look on his face.  It was clear he wasn’t in favor of going, but as always, Harry didn’t take no for an answer.

“Please?” Harry asked, using the sweetest tone he could muster as he slipped on his jacket.  “You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to.”

Louis sighed deeply before replying.  “Fine.”

Harry let out a satisfactory hum in response, getting another article of clothing thrown at him.

“You love being babied, don’t you?” Louis jested.

Riding there with Louis kept Harry motivated about what he was going to his father’s house for, instead of gradually forgetting all that Louis had said and turning back into his prior angry and unforgiving state.  Harry hadn’t even thought of everything in such a deep way until Louis decided to give him that very much needed speech, and now he fully saw the reason as to why he had no right to be so angry about something that was out of his control.  Many parts of him were still upset, but he now could see what Louis and Gemma were seeing.

He _was_ lucky that his parents still cared for him and tried to provide in every way they could, leaving Harry overflowed with gifts, money, and things he didn’t need.  He never thought about how hard it probably was for his father to juggle taking care of Harry, Gemma, and his new daughter all at once.

For once, Harry realized, it _wasn’t_ all about him.

When they got there, Harry tried to ignore the way Louis’ jaw pretty much dropped as he drove up the lengthy driveway to his father’s house.  He couldn’t help but crack a tiny grin, however, because finally, the boy had been left speechless for once in his life.

He walked up the driveway feeling alone, although he was still thoroughly motivated and determined because of the boy that was currently sitting in his car, probably testing out all the different vehicle fragrances.

He thought about the impressions he might've made on the little girl and her mother, and how he’d probably made himself seem like the biggest jerk of all when he’d walked out on them like that.  He _wasn’t_ a jerk, and he didn’t want to be seen as one, so he was going to fix this.  He was going to try with his half sister, and maybe with the woman…if he had to, or whatever.

He didn’t hesitate before ringing the doorbell and listening to that fancy tune that always took him back to the old times, when this was the place he could call home.  It was inhabited by a completely different family now, but it was still home, and Harry couldn’t abandon it, along with his father.

His dad appeared both shocked and pleased to find Harry standing there when he opened the door.

Harry didn’t waste any time before voicing his reason for arriving.

“I don’t, uh,” Harry started, kicking his feet at the ground.  “I don’t need to come in or anything.  I just wanted to quickly say that I’m sorry—in person, so you could know that I mean it.  I shouldn’t have acted the way I did when I found out.  It was disrespectful, and I’m sorry.”

There was a lingering silence as his father stared at him for a while, disbelief sprinkled lightly in his facial features, which didn’t make sense.  Harry _apologized_ for things—this wasn’t some rare occurrence.  Even though now that he thought about it, he couldn’t pinpoint the last time he’d apologized to his father about anything.

“Harry…” his father started, his eyes a hint sad.  “It’s really my fault for not telling you sooner.  It’s a pretty big thing to keep from you.”

“You were just waiting for the right time, which I fully understand,” Harry replied.  “It makes sense, because apparently I’m a drama queen, and I don’t take many things very well.”

“I just—I _knew_ you would react that way, and I didn’t know how to break it to you peacefully,” his dad continued.  “I hope you don’t feel like I’ve been neglecting you, or something of the sort.  I’ve been trying my best, Harry.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as he bit the inside of his cheek, taking a moment of silence before speaking.  “Just a little.  But it’s fine.  I see why now.”

“You just say the word, Harry.  We can go for lunch whenever you want, watch a movie in the home theatre— _whatever_ , anytime you want.”

“It’s just…” Harry started, the emotion finally getting to him as he lifted a useless hand in the air.  “It’s always been a fear of mine…that you would eventually forget about me after the divorce,” he admitted, his voice insecure.  “I know you’ve got a lot on your hands right now, but just promise me you won’t forget about me.”  He could feel his eyes stinging but he was going to use all his energy to make sure not a single tear escaped his ducts.

His father, however, was the exact opposite, and his eyes were shiny and wet as he shook his head at Harry.  “Of _course_ not.  God, you and Gemma are going to be a part of my life no matter _what_.”

Harry smiled shyly through blurry vision, immediately welcoming the crushing hug his dad gave him.

“I love you,” Harry murmured into his shoulder, still holding onto him tightly.

His dad pulled him closer, and Harry could feel the smile pressed against the material of his jacket.  “Love you too, Haz.”

The faint sound of child-like giggles brought Harry to remember that there were indeed other people living in the house.  “What’s her name?” Harry asked with a sniff, keeping his father at arm’s length.

“Angel,” his dad replied, a proud smile on his face.  “She’s in her bedroom playing with toys if you wanna meet her.”

Harry thought on that for a second.  He’d only wanted to come for a little bit in order to say his quick apology and leave, but the innocent sound of his sister laughing was practically pulling him forth, instilling a want to get to know this little girl inside of his body.

“Sure,” Harry said with a smile, moving past his father to enter the house.

His dad lead him to the very end of the hall where Angel was, and just like he’d said, there she was in her crib, playing with two expensive and oddly realistic looking dolls as she babbled senselessly.

His father left them alone for a moment as Harry crouched down in order to look at her through the bars of the crib.  She turned her head to stare at him, the most delightful smile on her face as she started to giggle again.  Harry came to realize that he loved those giggles, and she was also the cutest thing ever.  She even almost beat Harry for having the curliest hair.

“Hey there, Angel,” Harry started, reaching through the crib in order to touch her hand.  She grasped one finger with her hand, looking down at it and studying it thoroughly, as though it was the first time she’d seen such a thing before.  She continued to babble while also vaguely saying some things that Harry was pretty sure were actual words.  Harry guessed she was probably smack in the middle of that transition between speaking unintelligible gibberish and knowing English.

“My name is Harry,” he said, and her eyes came up to study his, huge and curious.  Harry nodded his head slowly as he tried to get her to understand.  “ _Harry_.  My name is _Harry_.”

Angel abruptly let go of his hand in order to point at him.  “ _Howie_ ,” she said excitedly, clearly confident about slightly mispronouncing his name.

Harry was pretty sure he let out a giggle right along with her, and he wasn’t ashamed of it one bit.  She was so painfully cute, and even though she was only a few months, Harry saw elements of himself in her, so it was impossible for him not to love her as soon as she opened her mouth.

“Howie.  Very funny,” Harry replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as she continued laughing.

The edge of a print of ink was peeking out from under her pink t-shirt, right on her collarbone, and Harry moved the fabric away in order to get a look at the infamous symbol that was going to be on her skin forever.  Hers was fairly uncomplicated, bringing  
Harry to immediately grow jealous of it.  It was a simple, small, detailed heart, and it was beautiful.  It brought another laugh out of Harry.

“I feel bad that you’re gonna have to deal with all this soulmate shi—uh, _stuff_ ,” Harry started, shaking his head at himself.  “Later on in life.  Good luck with that.”

“Howie,” Angel said again, pointing at him as he rose to his feet.

Harry leaned over in order to press a kiss to the crown of her head, his grin unmoving.  “Yep.  Howie.”

He took one last, long, serene look at her, her eyes glistening with all the innocence a person as young as her should have, before he left.

This girl barely even knew who Harry was, and Harry had already written her off, thrown her on his bad list without even considering the fact that not only was she a baby, but his sister.  He seriously needed to start doing some self evaluation.

He was immediately met with the approach of his father upon entering back into the hallway, and the man was holding out a small square shaped box covered in gift wrapping, complete with a festive bow on top of it.  Harry paused his steps, staring down at the present curiously.

“You’d stormed off before I could give you your birthday present,” his father said, his eyes shining with compassion.

Harry immediately began shaking his head.  “You didn’t have to—“

“It’s fine, Harry,” his dad assured him.  “Take it.”

Harry did as told, feeling overly grateful and full of love as he reflected on all the emotions that had been shared in the last fifteen minutes.

“I guess I’ll get going.  But…thank you.  Really,” Harry said, following behind his father as he led him toward the door.  He paused for a moment, turning around when his body was halfway out of the house.

His facial features were uncertain as his father waited for whatever he had to say.  “And the woman—she’s your...”

“Girlfriend,” his dad answered with a nod, and Harry only felt a little twinge of unsettlement.  “Soon to be fiancé.  Hopefully.”

“Yep,” Harry replied, faking enthusiasm as best he could.  “Can only hope.  Where is she?”

“She’s at work,” he replied.  “I took the day off so I could look after Angel.”

Harry nodded in understanding, shuffling his feet for a moment as the breeze from outside smoothed over the back of his neck.  “I’ll properly meet her sometime, yeah?”

His father’s entire mood seemed to brighten up, and Harry couldn’t ignore how this obviously meant so much to him, the fact that Harry was going to try to love the people he loved as well.

“Yeah,” he replied, his grin remaining solid.  “Anytime you’d like, Harry.”

“Sounds great,” Harry said, suppressing the wide smile and going for a cordial head nod.  The amount of saccharine sentiment was starting to eat him alive—he could only take so much sappiness in one day.

They said their goodbyes and Harry was nearly down the stairs when his father spoke up again.

“Wait— _Harry_.  Why did you leave your car on this entire time?” he asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

Harry had to think for a moment in order to figure out why he would’ve done such a thing, before remembering that Louis was in the car.

He let out a gentle laugh before speaking.  “Oh, Louis is waiting in the car,” Harry answered, pointing over his shoulder and talking as though his father even knew who that boy was.

“Louis?” he asked, the name foreign in his mouth.  Harry already knew his father’s mind was moving fast, and the next question would most likely be _what is his last name,_ in order to check if he knew his family.  Basically, he was going to judge the living daylights out of the boy.

“Yeah, um…he’s…” Harry started, messing with the pads of his fingers as he contemplated what to say.

Obviously, Louis was his _friend_.  The boy came over to his place regularly in order to platonically sleep in his bed as an escape from his one night stands.  If _that_ didn’t signify that they were deep in the friend zone, Harry didn’t know what did.

However, with the end of his sentence lingering in the air, Harry was given more time to think.  When Louis had told Harry about his father bailing on him after simply finding out an aspect about Louis he didn’t like, his mind had immediately drifted to his own parents, and how they might’ve reacted.  Harry wasn’t putting anything into _specifics_ yet, but he’d obviously been trying some things out, thinking some things…wanting some things.  If his parents weren’t going to love him regardless of who he was, he felt it was best to find out right at this moment.  He wanted to know if everything his father had said just a few minutes ago, promised, expressed to Harry, simply wouldn’t matter anymore if Harry wasn’t a straight guy.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Harry replied, his voice easy and casual as though this wasn’t a monumental thing to say.

Harry was aware the statement wasn’t true, and that it would probably never be true, but it was the route he was going to use in order to figure out if the love his father claimed he had for him was legit.

He immediately searched for his father’s expression, his eyes narrowing slightly as his dad’s mouth parted just a little.  He didn’t seem disgusted or anything near the sort—just highly taken aback, which was fully expected.

“Oh, uh,” his father started, scratching at one of his arms.  His eyes held all the confusion in the world, and after taking a moment to evaluate what Harry had said, he let out a genuine chuckle.  “Okay then.  That’s nice.”

He didn’t ask about what happened to Cecile, didn’t badger Harry with questions about how this came about, and didn’t condemn him on the front porch.  All he’d said was that it was “nice”, and that was all Harry needed.

“It is,” Harry replied with a tiny grin, before waving his dad off.  “I’ll see you later.”

“Call me when you can, alright?” his father called out to him, Harry giving him an understanding head nod in response.

He couldn’t help the massive grin that formed on his face as he took the walk back to his car, feeling as light as a cloud.

 

~*~

 

“Nope.  No burgers today,” Harry said, making a right turn on the road.  “I refuse.”

Louis laughed deviously, his feet shaking from where they were propped up on the dashboard.  “That’s funny because from what I remember, _I’m_ the one who gets the say in where we eat.”

Harry began counting things off on his fingers as he drove.  “So you make me pick you up, you make me pay for everything, _and_ you choose where we eat?  This is similar to tyranny.”

“ _You’re_ the one who’s gladly accepted this position for the last five hundred times, Harold,” Louis replied, proceeding to snap his fingers.  “So _burgers_.  _Now._ ”

“I’m behind the wheel actually, so I’m gonna have to overrule your request,” Harry said, turning into the nearest area of food chains.  “Healthy, wholesome sub sandwiches it is.”

Louis crossed his arms over his chest.  “I’m not eating.”

“Good, because that saves me money.”

Louis did, in fact, end up ordering twice as many things as Harry did, and when they were done placing their order, he was snacking on the bag of baked chips he’d purchased as a side.

“Cashier is kind of cute, isn’t he?” Louis asked, his mouth half full of chips as he tried to make casual peeks over the counter without being too obvious.

Harry didn’t even glance in the direction Louis was looking.  “Nope.”

“ _Well_ ,” Louis replied with a huff, offense in his tone.  The boy turned his head to scan the area of customers, both eating in booths and waiting near the counter for their orders.  “Didn’t expect you to have much taste anyway.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together as he glared at Louis, who was still looking over the restaurant.  “What is that supposed to—“

“Oh my, Niall and Zayn are here,” Louis said suddenly, his eyes focused on a corner of the restaurant as he appeared pleasantly surprised.  The innocent delight on his face was enough to make Harry feel warm on the inside.

“We should go say hi to them,” Louis continued, stuffing his mouth with more chips.

These words shook Harry out of his soft state once he realized that _Zayn_ , his former friend and arch nemesis, was within his vicinity.  “No, I really don’t want to—“

“Zayn!” Louis yelled, already halfway across the dining area before Harry could even finish his sentence.

Harry let out a long, tired sigh before following behind him, wishing his favorite person in the world wasn’t so loud and attention grabbing.

Louis immediately slipped into the booth next to Zayn as he clasped Niall’s hand over the table.  “Didn’t expect to see _you_ guys here!”

“Didn’t expect to see you either,” Niall replied, his eyes shifting over to Harry as he approached.  “With Harry.  That’s interesting.”  His smile was way too bright and wide as he kept looking between Harry and Louis, his eyes overbearing once Harry slid into the booth next to him.  “So you guys just…do stuff together?”

Harry noticed Zayn out of the corner of his eye, now exceedingly interested in his fork.

“I guess,” Harry replied, trying to make his voice sound as positive as ever.  “Louis sort of uses me as a chauffeur, though.”

“That’s Louis,” Niall said with a laugh, playfully kicking the boy under the table.  “Gotta love him.”

Their order was called at just the right moment, and Harry was nearly flying out of his seat in order to get up and get it.

“Harry will bring our food back here and we’ll just eat with you guys,” Louis told Niall, completely missing the eye roll Harry threw at him.

Harry let out many sighs and groans as he went over to get their food and made the walk back, dreading how long this was probably going to be and how much work he was going to have to put forth in order to avoid speaking to Zayn the entire time.

When he arrived back at the table, a conversation was already in full effect as Louis went on about his excitement for their next gig.

“I honestly don’t even know how we booked this one,” Niall added, his fingers drumming against the top of the table.

“It’s because of the music,” Zayn said.  “More people are starting to pay attention to your original songs, because they’re amazing.”

 _They wouldn’t even be performing original songs if it weren’t for me, the “unsupportive friend”,_ Harry wanted to say, but he kept it to himself as the boys continued to talk.

Zayn spoke to everyone but Harry, although his eyes fluttered in his direction probably once or twice.  Behind his eyes, Harry couldn’t see any lingering anger or hate toward him, but Harry was still cross, because even though he liked to think he didn’t have feelings, Zayn had managed to _hurt_ them.

However, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Zayn was at his birthday party, and was among those that helped plan it.  He might’ve only been doing it because of Niall, but still, he _did_ it, and he stayed for the duration of the party, so that meant something.

“It’s gonna be a really posh one,” Louis commented, sipping from his plastic cup with his pinky out in order to make his point, which both Niall and Zayn laughed in response to.

Harry hadn’t heard Zayn’s laugh in a while.  It was high pitched and breathy, and Harry was pretty sure he’d made fun of him for it before, but it was all good natured.  It was odd, sitting there and realizing that he missed Zayn’s laugh.

At some point, Zayn excused himself to the bathroom, and Harry kept watchful eyes on him as he left, wondering how long this was going to drag out.

Harry and Zayn’s friendship had been mostly empty for many of their years as “friends”, because that was what happened when rich parents forced two kids to associate themselves with each other.  When Harry came to uni and only had Zayn to turn to, that was when everything about their relationship became more real, and Harry hadn’t even realized it.  Zayn was his best friend.

Harry rose up from his seat in the booth, Louis’ eyes immediately darting up with question of where he was going.

“I need to use the bathroom too,” Harry replied, before making his way down the rows of tables in order to find where he was going.

When he entered, the first thing he saw was Zayn, washing his hands in the sink, although it seemed more like his hands were sitting there.

“Oh—hi,” Zayn said, clearly thrown off so much that he’d forgotten they were ignoring each other.  He quickly went back to washing his hands, finishing up and drying off as Harry stood there with a dumb look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Harry finally said, his words coming out in a single breath.

He sure was dealing with a lot of “sorry”’s lately.

Zayn blinked at him for a moment, brown eyes clouded by befuddlement.  He finally opened his mouth as well, his hand coming up to stroke his other arm.  “I’m sorry too.”

Harry instantly felt better, although many things hadn’t been hashed out yet.  Just being able to know that Zayn was regretful as well about how things ended was all Harry wanted.

“I was saying a lot of stuff— _stupid_ stuff,” Zayn said with a half chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at the ground for a moment.  “I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“You meant some of it,” Harry replied with a knowing look.

Zayn rolled his eyes as he shifted onto his right foot.  “Okay, maybe I did.  Some of it.”

“All of it,” Harry said.

Zayn took a moment, but eventually he nodded, letting out another small laugh in the process.  “Yeah, I guess all of it.  But I was really harsh about it.”

“It’s fine, Zayn,” Harry replied, clasping his hands behind his back.  “I need someone to…tell me about myself and get angry at me.  I’ve realized I’m kind of a jerk and I don’t even know it.”

“Just a bit,” Zayn said, holding up pinched fingers.  “But I was being a jerk too.  You _did_ work hard in high school, and it’s not _your_ fault that your dad influenced the board to give you the scholarship.”

“And I know you’re not jealous,” Harry added, letting out a sigh at just the memory of their petty argument.  “That was pretentious and bratty of me to say.”

“I know you’re not some heartless rich kid,” Zayn replied, his voice soft and genuine.  “I should know that better than anyone.”

“You should,” Harry said, already moving forward to hug Zayn, who easily obliged, wrapping his arms around the boy’s back.

“Sorry I’ve been abandoning you.  We’ll hang out every _fucking_ weekend, I swear,” Zayn said into his shoulder, before pulling back to look him in the eye and make sure he understood.

Harry quirked an eyebrow up at the thought of _every fucking weekend_ , but he also had to remember that he was the one who had whined about Zayn neglecting him.

“Yes, every weekend,” Harry agreed, giving in when Zayn pulled him into a second hug.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> louis’ character is hard to decipher, right? sometimes you have to pay attention to the little, tiny, _microscopic_ details about the way he acts in order to figure out more about him.
> 
> i would love to hear any of your thoughts on who exactly you think louis is as a person, why he is the way he is, how you think he feels about harry right now, all of it
> 
> or if you would like to leave a comment with just one letter in it i’ll be just as content! love you all :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "ah. i know louis."
> 
> oh, and a little bit of manky panky

 

 

Harry’s fist nearly carved a hole into his chin as he remained there, at one end of the couch, sitting as the soft guitar melodies danced around the air and right into his ears.  His eyes remained lazily focused on Louis, who was on the other end of the couch, staring intently down at the neck of his guitar as he continued to play, probably forgetting that Harry was even in the room with him.

Harry’s legs were crossed underneath him as his body was fully faced toward Louis, and he remained with his fist pressed against his chin.  Not a single sound was present besides Louis’ guitar—not the television, not the radio— _nothing_.  Only the squeaking of the strings and Louis’ short breaths in between different melodies.

Harry was certain he’d been sitting there watching the boy try out different harmonies for half an hour, but Louis hadn’t said a single thing about it, so Harry figured all was well.

This was the most peaceful he’d felt in a while.  It was almost as though it was therapeutic, intently watching Louis shift his socked feet on the couch as he played the guitar, his tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration.  The sun was out, so the inside of Harry’s flat was bright and uplifting, adding to the peacefulness of it all.

Of course, Harry couldn’t ever let a good moment last, because his mouth was uncontrollable.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Harry blurted, his words cutting harshly into the tranquility of the afternoon.

Louis’ strumming paused, and there was silence for a long moment as he slowly turned his head to look at Harry, puzzlement smeared all over his face.  Harry kept the same neutral expression as they shared eye contact, although his insides were thrashing against one other with fear.

“No,” Louis replied with a giggle, going back into position to play his instrument.

“Why?” Harry pressed, his tone remaining at the same serious, monotonous level.

Louis looked at Harry again with slight amusement.  “Because it’s _stupid_.”

Harry felt just a qualm of something in his chest.  He couldn’t quite distinguish what it was.  Maybe sadness, maybe anger.  Probably both.  He chose to ignore the qualm anyway, only looking at the couch cushion for half a second before locking eyes with Louis again.

“How is it stupid when Niall and Zayn have the same tattoo?” Harry asked, blinking at the side of his head as the boy went back to strumming.

He took a moment to respond, instead focusing on his fingers against the frets.  “Well…that’s—“

“And Liam and Olivia?”

“I think,” Louis started, raising his eyebrows pointedly.  “That they’re all trying to pull a fast one.  It’s very easy to do.”

This managed to bring a different reaction out of Harry as he sat up a bit, his lips parting.  “Louis, I’ve known Zayn for _years_.  I can assure you he’s not trying to ‘pull a fast one’,” he said, adding air quotes in order to mock Louis.

“Still, it’s easy to lie about anything,” Louis replied with a simple shrug.  “It’s easy to find someone you love and get a tattoo that matches theirs.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before bringing his attention back to Louis.  “Zayn _did not_ get a tattoo to match Niall’s.  They’re actually, _legitimately_ —“

“That makes sense,” Louis started, his tone smothered in sarcasm.  “I’m gonna find a random stranger with the same tattoo as me and ride off into the sunset singing ‘Love on Top’.  Sounds very realistic.”

“Don’t be condescending,” Harry replied disappointedly.  “A lot of people take that stuff very seriously.”

“Well I hope they have fun letting a useless symbol dictate their lives,” Louis replied with a sweet smile, before bringing his focus back to where it had originally been.

Harry didn’t even know what to say at this point, because there was clearly no swaying Louis.  The boy actually reminded Harry of himself and how he used to respond to soulmate-related ideas.  Except now, Harry had _seen_ things that Louis had not seen and was completely unaware of, so the fact that he now believed in it and Louis didn’t wasn’t necessarily shocking.

Quietness stretched for a while as Louis played, Harry in a significantly heavier mood than before as he let his eyes shift back down to the couch cushions.  It was just so _fucking_ frustrating.  Harry was right in front of him _every single day_ , and the boy was completely oblivious to pretty much all that had been happening.  He wasn’t a romantic person, nor was he a person who liked to share feelings, nor was he a person who was even interested in Harry in the slightest, and Harry was growing tired of trying.

An abrupt gasp from Louis brought Harry’s attention back up to him.

“I’ve realized something,” Louis said, holding a finger up in the air.

Harry just had to hope his eyes weren’t too optimistic at the moment.  “What?”

“That chord should be a _G_ , not a _C!_ ” Louis said, as though Harry knew the language of the guitar.  He tapped himself once on the head as he laughed, before continuing his string of melodies.  The squeaking of the chords continued, although it was much squeakier since the boy was using a penny to strum, due to the fact that he had misplaced his guitar pick ( _again_ ).

Harry decided to give up for the afternoon as he pushed himself off of the couch in order to find something to actually _eat_ , because he couldn’t stare at Louis for breakfast.

He spent a significant amount of time in the kitchen eating cereal, watching Louis play from afar as he tried not to glower.  The boy sitting in his living room, looking artistically majestic as he played the guitar and forgot about the world around him, somehow managed to bring Harry so much stress.  The problem was that Harry couldn’t get away from him.  It wasn’t even because he was forced to see the boy every day—Harry genuinely didn’t _want_ to get away from him.  He always wanted him around, and that was the problem.

At some point Louis was up on his feet, walking slowly around Harry’s flat as he often did at random moments, just exploring and poking his way through things.  Harry observed him as the boy stood by the dining table, viewing a panting hung up on Harry’s wall that Harry’d probably looked at a total of two times since moving in there.  His eyes studied it with so much interest, seemingly getting lost in it as he stood in front.

Harry was at the kitchen counter, sipping sparkling water from an unnecessarily fancy glass as he watched Louis watch the art.  Louis was sort of like art as well, Harry thought.  A picture of him would’ve probably looked better in place of that colorful, flowery painting that had Louis’ focus right now.  Maybe replacing it would’ve gotten Louis to stop looking at it and pay attention to Harry.

Harry set his cup down on the counter, beginning to walk his way over to the boy.  “Louis,” was what came out of his mouth.

Louis turned around in response, curious eyes watching as Harry approached him.  Harry immediately grasped the front of his shirt upon reaching him, backing him slowly into the wall and sealing their lips together, leaving Louis without a single second to prepare.

Louis made a muffled “mmph” noise to express his surprise, but he easily got into rhythm with Harry as he held onto the sides of his shirt, pressing forward in order to deepen their kiss.

It didn’t take long for Louis to insert his tongue, and when it happened, it had Harry nearly shaking, because he’d been thinking about doing exactly this every day since the first time they’d done it.

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s back, reaching up to his shoulders in order to pull him in impossibly close, Harry becoming pressed right up against his body with not a centimeter of space in between.

Harry brought both of his hands up to place on the back of Louis’ neck, practically vibrating with the desire to get closer to him, even though there was nowhere else he could go in order to fulfill that desire.

When Louis’ leg somehow made its way in between Harry’s, it immediately brought a low, faint moan out from Harry’s lips that he, himself, hadn’t even been aware he had in him.  It also sent every single ounce of anticipation and want straight to his sweatpants, and he had to part lips with Louis for a second to gasp when the boy rutted his hips upward.

“Louis,” Harry breathed, sucking another kiss to the boy’s lips when Louis pulled him in.  “ _Louis_ ,” he said again.

Louis opened his eyes, bunching up the material of Harry’s sweatshirt at the shoulder as he held a frustrated look on his face.  “What, _what_?” he asked impatiently, still grabbing onto Harry.

Harry was thoroughly dazed, caught in a trance as he remained so close and entangled with Louis, but he still tried his best not to focus on the boy’s lips as he built up a serious composure.

Louis looked absolutely devastated as Harry stood so close, ceasing all of their movements for a reason he wasn’t aware of.  “I thought it was sexy time,” Louis said disappointedly, moving his thigh out from in between Harry’s legs and finally allowing him to _breathe_.

“Are you really trying to do this?” Harry managed to ask, his eyebrows furrowed as he brought his eyes up to Louis’ with much struggle.

Louis nodded with his lips pursed, as though it was an obvious answer to a dumb question.  “Fucking _yes._ I am for sure _trying to do this_.”

Harry breathed in and out a few times, trying to steady himself in order to think rationally.  This wasn’t _exactly_ what he had intended when he took Louis by surprise with the kiss.  This was more supposed to be a way of helping him—speeding up the realization process.  It obviously and quickly turned into an opportunity for Harry to become one out of many men to experience something like this with Louis, quick and meaningless.

And Louis was fully prepared to do it.  To disregard the friendship they’d built up with each other in order to get off and then forget about it.  He was going to do this with _Harry_ , and he didn’t care.  It fucking _hurt_.

Harry stepped back and gripped Louis’ arm, sliding his hand down until he had the boy’s palm grasped in his, and he walked with the boy being lead behind him, straight over to the living room couch, pushing the boy onto it without a second thought.

Their lips were connected again before Harry had even fully sat on his lap.  They sucked and bit at each other’s lips, breathing beginning to lack as a necessity as Harry held onto his face.

Maybe he just a needed a bit more of…whatever this was.  Then maybe he would realize certain _things_ that Harry had been trying to get him to realize for quite some _fucking_ time now.  Harry felt that this might’ve helped.

Harry pulled back from the kiss, trying not to gasp when he felt Louis’ cold finger tips move up the inside of his shirt.  He kept his forehead pressed against Louis’, speaking quietly to him as though they were in their own tiny bubble.

“What do you feel?” Harry asked.

Louis shifted his hips just a bit, looking down in between their bodies.  “I feel horny.”

Harry was well aware of this, because he could feel him—just _faintly_ , from where he sat on his lap.  It was causing his mind to drift to faraway places; places that involved going all the way through with this, letting Louis touch him all over, and…

He needed to focus.

“That’s all you feel?” Harry asked, his voice so soft it almost couldn’t be heard.  He sensed a slight dash of pain in his tone, but he didn’t think Louis would catch onto it.

“What else am I supposed to feel?” Louis asked.  “You’re _sitting_ right on top of my _dick_.”

Harry let out a groan that held only a little bit of exasperation behind it before pulling Louis in by the locks of his hair and kissing him again, this time with more determination.  He sucked Louis’ lips into his intently, hoping the point would get across some time soon.

He pulled back again, looking at Louis pointedly.

It took a moment for Louis’ eyes to open upon realizing Harry wasn’t going to kiss him again.  “Are you _trying_ to give me blue balls?”

Harry let his arms down on his lap in defeat, now staring at Louis’ eyes.

The boy still wasn’t getting it.

“So right now, if I gave you the opportunity to have sex with me, you would?” Harry asked, attempting not to sound hurt in the least bit.  He searched Louis’ eyes with sincerity, trying to figure if there was any unveiled truth beneath the surface.

“Yeah, why not?” Louis asked casually, his fingers sliding higher on Harry’s bare waist.  “I’ve been dreaming about this since you tried to squeeze into my jeans that one time—“

Harry interrupted him by covering a hand over his mouth, the boy continuing to talk about how much he’d wanted this, although it was now muffled and unintelligible, the way Harry wanted it.  It stung, and it sucked, and it reeked, and it was everything that Harry had fought so hard to prevent coming to life.  If Louis was actually going to sit there and have meaningless sex with him, then whatever deep bond Harry thought they’d had never existed.

Harry simply refused to believe that, however.  It hurt too much.  Louis _knew_ he was more important than all the others.  He had to.

When Louis had gone quiet under Harry’s palm for quite some time, Harry removed his hand, replacing it with his mouth, for the third time that afternoon.  He kissed him slowly this time, every joining of their lips long and thought out as he teased Louis’ tongue with his.

“Let’s do this then,” Harry whispered in between kisses, and almost immediately, he felt that exhilaration come about in Louis’ joggers once again.

It didn’t take long for their slow kisses to pick up pace again, Louis’ hands now fully splayed across Harry’s back as he pulled him in, chasing his mouth every time he pulled away just a hint.

As everything started to speed up and the energy between them began to build, Harry’s mind kept going _I’m doing this I’m really fucking doing this_.  He was currently in a state of extreme panic of the unknown, while simultaneously becoming increasingly hungry with desire by the second.  He grew just as enthusiastic as Louis, if not more, his fist tightening around the boy’s t-shirt as Louis placed wet kisses down the side of his neck.  He couldn’t help but allow his mind to think about how potentially enjoyable this whole thing could be, and he was fully sold by the time Louis shifted their positions so that Harry was laid on his back across the length of the couch.

Louis kissed him again as he now hovered over him, this time bringing his legs to a position so that the fronts of their pants were pressed right up against each other, and Harry didn’t even try to bite back a moan when Louis thrust his hips upward.

Louis detached their lips to suck at the top of Harry’s neck as he continued moving his hips at a slow, yet amazingly perfect pace.  He scooped one of Harry’s thighs up into his arm as he continued to sway.

“That okay?” Louis asked, his voice quiet and genuine, as though he was seriously interested in how Harry was feeling about this.

Harry was too busy holding his mouth open at the feeling of Louis’ length right up against his that it took him a moment to answer.  “Yeah,” was all he could manage, the word coming out in a single, raspy breath.

The faintest, most lightest, most _heavenly_ of sounds came from Louis as he rutted his hips just a bit harder, his teeth catching onto the skin at Harry’s collarbone.  Harry wanted that high pitched, helpless sound to be the last thing he heard before he died.  He wanted that sound to be the first thing he heard in the morning, and the last thing he heard at night.  He wanted to fucking _drown_ himself in that sound.

Harry buried his hands in Louis’ hair as a means of controlling himself and having something to let out his frustration into—both sexual and mental.  His head was tilted back against the armrest of the couch, surges of pleasure rushing through him, flushing his skin every time Louis moved his hips.

One of Louis’ hands snuck under his shirt and made its way up to his right nipple, just pinching it lightly but causing Harry to turn into a gasping, moaning mess all the more.

If Harry had thought anything he’d done with Louis so far had been amazing, he had _definitely_ been wrong, because this right here took the fucking _cake_.  He could feel Louis everywhere—on his neck, on his chest, _everywhere_ outside of him, everywhere _inside_ of him, causing him to feel exceedingly overwhelmed.

This lust and immense hunger for every single thing Louis would do to him eventually, got swept away immediately when he felt both of Louis’ hands at the bottom hem of his sweatshirt, moving quickly in order to pull it up.

Harry dropped his hands down in order to place them on top of Louis’ within a second, ceasing all of the boy’s movements.

“What?” Louis asked breathlessly, his hands frozen in place as he licked his lips.

Harry’s eyes moved down to his lips, now wet and pink from his tongue and practically _begging_ to be kissed.  He leaned forward only slightly before regaining his composure.

“I can’t take my shirt off,” Harry whispered, his voice shy.

Louis blinked at him for a moment, their hands still resting against one another’s as they lay there, breathing heavily.  “Why?”

Harry shook his head, trying his absolute best to ignore how painfully hard he was.  “I just can’t.”

Louis shook his head as well, letting out a sigh as he slipped his hands out of Harry’s grasp. “I don’t care if you have a little chub—“

“It’s _not_ about chub,” Harry said sternly.  _It’s about a big honking tattoo on my back._ “I just…don’t want to.”

Louis stared at him for a moment, his lips parted in slight disbelief as Harry gazed up at him innocently.  Then, his eyes shifted to the side for a moment, and Harry could clearly tell he was doing some decision making in his mind.

The Louis Harry knew wouldn’t have cared, right?  He’d have done it with clothes on or off, because he was Louis, and sex was sex.

Except right now, Harry could visibly _see_ him having doubts and actually wasting _time_ instead of diving right back into Harry and continuing what they started.  He was _sensing_ something.

Louis’ eyes finally met his again, and he bit the inside of his cheek for a moment.  His eyes were more big and cerulean than Harry had ever seen them, and every fiber of Harry’s being wanted to pull him back down and continue this, but that would’ve been going against everything he’d hoped for.

“Well, I’m not doing this with your shirt on,” Louis said dismissively, already pushing himself up from where he was laid over Harry.

Harry slowly sat up as well, his mind still hazy and in a state of arousal as he blinked at Louis multiple times.  “Fine.”  He tried to sound dismissive as well, attempting to show Louis that this didn’t mean that much to him anyway, but he failed as he listened to the sound of his own voice, so weak and soft.  He sat with his feet flat against the couch and his knees pointed to the ceiling, resting his arms in his lap in order to make a bad attempt at ignoring his boner’s existence

Louis casually reached over to grab the remote off of the table, turning on the television above with one click.  “So whad’ya wanna watch?”

“I…um,” Harry started, burying his arms deeper in his lap as he sunk into the couch just a bit.  “Whatever you want.  Whatever you want is fine.”

He was in _pain_.  He swallowed as he kept his bottom lip in between his teeth, trying his best to keep a neutral expression on his face as Louis searched channels.  He was _not_ going to glance over to see if Louis was still sporting one too.  He had to have self control, damn it.

He was pretty sure he had never been in more pain in his life, and it was all coming from one central place in his body as they sat there and watched a fucking reality show, as though they hadn’t been hooking up two seconds before.

Barely five minutes of silent T.V. watching had passed before Louis abruptly rose up from the couch, dusting off his pants before making his way elsewhere.

“I have to use the bathroom,” he said matter-of-factly.

Harry didn’t reply, because he was pretty sure the only thing that would’ve came out of his mouth was a choked whine, so he just listened to Louis’ retreating steps as he sunk deeper into the couch.  He listened as Louis closed his bedroom door, and then his bathroom door, and then he heard the tiny _clink_ as the bathroom door locked.

He grabbed the remote and turned the volume up to its maximum level.

 

~*~

 

Harry found himself on a distant Saturday night, walking down the streets of a pretty busy area downtown as Zayn strolled along beside him.  Harry had never been in this part of the town before, because he’d never had a desire to experience the nightlife and witness so many people whirring about as they basked in the festivities of it all.

“How much longer do we have to walk?” Harry asked with a sigh, dragging his feet across the sidewalk as some excited women in nightclub dresses rushed passed them in the opposite direction.

Zayn was wearing a gray, rather fancy looking, buttoned up shirt with a nice little black bowtie at the neck.  He looked absolutely adorable, although Harry wasn’t going to admit such a thing out loud.

Zayn pressed his palms together as he continued walking.  “We just have to keep walking until we find the words _Club Opulence_ displayed across the front of the building,” Zayn said, spreading his hands in front of him to resemble the sign.  “Niall said the sign is great, big, and neon blue.  You can’t miss it.”

Harry was growing increasingly exhausted as they continued on what seemed like a hike through a forest of tipsy people and men with glow sticks.  The drive to this area had already been about an hour in duration, and since there was barely any parking around, they had to walk almost a mile to get there, but Harry tried to let all those negative, complaint-filled thoughts fade away, because he was doing this for the _band_.  He loved going to their gigs and watching them tear up the stage, so he wasn’t going to whine about this.  He knew that as soon as he saw Louis’ face, he would forget about all the suffering he had gone through to get to their gig.

When they finally reached the destination, the club was much larger than Harry had ever imagined.  The windows stretched from the very top of it, down to the bottom, but they only provided the outside viewer with their own reflection, which was pretty impressive in and of itself.  This place looked posh enough to impress even _Harry_.

Another aspect of the establishment that caught Harry off guard was the fact that there was an actual line outside of the double doors at the front.  A _line_.  Complete with an entire bouncer, who appeared to be checking off names.

Harry was in a pretty easy state despite having to wait in a line to see a band he was practically apart of, but the frustration inside of him had no other place to go when they finally reached the front of the line and were met with another dilemma.

“You guys aren’t on the list,” was what the guy said, his eyes not having looked up at Harry and Zayn even once.

Both of Harry’s eyebrows rose, and he hoped his expression of disbelief and rage shown through, even though he was wearing his round, black sunglasses over his eyes.

“Not on the _list_?” Harry asked incredulously.  “Whatever _freaking_ list you’ve got there is obviously incorrect, because if anyone should be on _any_ list, it’s definitely us.”

Zayn patted him on the back calmly a few times, leaning into Harry to speak.  “It’s fine, Harry.  We’ll just call them.”

The bouncer finally looked at them, his thick eyebrows unmoving as he fixed a hard glare on them.  “It doesn’t matter if you call them.  If you’re not on the list, you can’t get in.”

Harry took a step back and rubbed his palm over his forehead in order to contain himself.  If he missed even a half second of the boys’ performance he was seriously going to start a riot, and it wasn’t going to pretty.  This was the first time they were going to perform “Fireproof” live, and Harry had been there for just about all of their first performances of new songs.  It meant a lot to Louis as well, and he could tell by the way Louis always searched for Harry in the crowd.

“What kind of shit _is_ this?” Harry asked, his hands bunching into tight fists.  “Check the list again, check it three times, fucking _check_ it—“

“Look sir,” the man started, holding up a patient hand.  “If you’re going to start a ruckus, I’m gonna have to get someone to escort you off of the premises.”

Harry set his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed behind the black lenses as Zayn pressed his lips together.  In most situations such as these, Harry would’ve usually just told the man who his father was and immediately gotten a pass to go inside, but that was the _old_ Harry.  This was the _new_ Harry, and he wasn’t going to rely on his dad to allow him to float through life on a magic carpet.  He wasn’t going to abuse his privilege.

Zayn set a soft hand on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes apologetic as Harry met gaze with him.  “I uh,” he started, turning back to glance at the bouncer. “I guess we’ll just go then.”

Harry wanted to yell and make a scene, and it was irritating him to no end that Zayn was just going to accept defeat so easily.  As the bouncer nodded his head and the faintest of grins grew on his face, Harry was ready to slap that worthless _list_ right out of his hands.

“ _Zayn_!” Harry heard, just as they both had begun to turn around in order to leave.  It was a female voice, one that Harry had never heard before, so it brought him to turn around abruptly in order to see who this was.  She was a teenage girl with blonde hair so light that it was bordering on white, and she was stood near the entrance of the club, on the other side of the line as she held out her arms for a hug.  She was wearing blue flare jeans and a dressy blouse, along with a golden tag hanging around her neck.

The bouncer let out a groan as she stepped over the line to hug Zayn.

“ _Lottie_!” Zayn replied as they held each other, his enthusiasm matching hers.

For Harry to say he was confused would’ve been an understatement.

Lottie turned toward the bouncer, motioning at both Zayn and Harry as she spoke, even though she hadn’t directly acknowledged Harry yet.  “They’re with us.”  She flashed the tag around her neck at him obnoxiously, bringing another groan out from his lips.

The bouncer blinked at the three of them for a few moments, probably wanting to turn them away again, but growing tired of how this situation had been dragged out. “Whatever,” he replied, motioning for them to enter without another word.

Harry couldn’t keep himself from grinning at him just a bit obnoxiously as he stepped into the establishment, knowing he owed his thanks to…whoever this Lottie girl was.

The inside was even fancier than the outside; everything was seemingly made of glass and covered in the soft, pastel colors from the changing lights up above.  Harry wondered why he’d never heard of this place before.  It was probably new.

Different kinds of people were spaced throughout the area, either at the bars with their black cards and wallets or littered over the dance floor without crowding it too much.  There were a few tables near the stage at the front, with high, swirly chairs surrounding them, probably for people who wanted to pay more attention to whatever performance was taking place.

As they neared this area, however, Harry felt the anger that had already been settled at the bottom of his spine grow exponentially larger when he realized that the stage crew wasn’t setting up the instruments and stands for The Red Rogue, but _taking them down_.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, the harshness of his tone not even heard because of the loud hum of noise in the club.  “We fucking _missed_ it?”

The harsh words had been meant for Zayn to hear, but Lottie had apparently heard it, because she paused her act of leading them through the club and turned around, looking at Harry sadly.  “They started earlier than they were supposed to because one act canceled.  It just ended about two minutes ago.  The club already booked them for another night here, though!  The crowd _loved_ them!”

Harry nodded his head slowly, still completely unaware of who this girl was.  He held out his hand hesitantly, attempting to go for cordial and probably achieving awkward.  “I’m Harry.  And you are…?”

“Oh,” she replied, shaking her head at herself as she laughed.  “I’m Lottie.  Louis’ little sister.”

Harry’s lips parted for a moment as he shook her hand and just _now_ began to notice the similar features in both of their faces.  “Ah.  I know Louis.”

“That’s great,” Lottie replied with smile, before turning back around to continue walking in front of them.  “He’s backstage right now, but some of the boy’s relatives are sat at one of the tables up front, so we can just wait over there until they come out.”

Harry hadn’t realized this was such an important gig, and it only made him feel all the more horrible for missing it.  When they reached the high table where the rest of them resided, Harry was met with a table full of faces he’d never seen, although it was clear they resembled some of the features he’d seen in the boys.

Harry, being the gentleman that he was, went around the table to introduce himself to each and every one of them, because Zayn seemed to already be so familiar with all of them, which made Harry feel like he was two hundred steps behind.

He could quickly recognize that a lady was Louis’ mother when he shook hands with her, because she possessed that same twinkle in her eye when she looked at him, along with the most sincere smile a person could bear.

“You must be Louis’ mum,” Harry said sweetly, feeling his palm start to sweat only a little.  _Why_ was his palm sweating?

“I _am_ ,” she replied proudly, continuing to grasp his hand gently.  “And you are?”

“Harry,” he said, taking a moment to watch her reaction and figure out whether the name rang a bell to her or not.  Whether Louis had ever mentioned Harry to his family or not.

Her expression didn’t shift one bit, nor did she claim to have already heard about him.  All she did was nod her head with a smile, claiming that it was nice to meet him.

Harry couldn’t say he was surprised that Louis had never told his mother or his sister about him.  It wasn’t a big deal, anyway—obviously, he wasn’t of _that_ much importance in Louis’ life, although he’d traveled thirty miles and walked the wild streets of downtown in order to get a glimpse of his stupid, beautiful face.

Many minutes passed, consisting of the relatives speaking to each other as Harry’s eyes darted around the area in search of Louis.  He couldn’t help but notice that as he looked around, it was clear that everyone was dressed far more formally than he was.  He chose to wear a red, oversized band t-shirt and black jeans with rips at the knees, and he had been confident in that choice, but now he was feeling severely underdressed.

He and Zayn were sat at a separate table because the other one was full, and they were allowed peace for only fifteen minutes before being shooed away because of the table suddenly becoming reserved.

Harry could faintly feel the sleepy atmosphere of the club starting to get to him as he and Zayn crashed on some plush white loveseat situated against one of the walls.

Harry checked his wristwatch as he sat boredly on the couch next to Zayn, who he could tell was also growing highly impatient.  “Where _are_ they?” Harry asked.

“They’re probably chatting with some people backstage,” Zayn replied, turning to face Harry.  “You know this was a pretty big show for them, right?”

“How so?” he asked.

“A scout was here today, watching all the different acts perform,” Zayn explained, a soft rose gold light illuminating the side of his face.  “It was probably their most important show yet.”

Harry nodded his head in response to that, pursing his lips forward and trying not to scream at the fact that he missed it.

The boys eventually _did_ come out, but it seemed like they were heavily occupied with talking to more important people rather than tending to their families and boyfriends— _boyfriends_ being Zayn, of course.

Harry watched from afar, although he could barely see anything as bodies floated around in his line of vision and the boys in their dark outfits became sort of a blur.  It seemed that Liam was leading most of the discussion, trying to make the best impression he could on whoever one of the men standing in front of them were.  All the boys appeared more professional and mature than Harry had ever seen them as they continued to speak.  What caused a grin to poke at Harry’s cheeks, however, was that among the professionally composed boys and serious faces, there was Louis, latched onto Niall’s back and burying his face in boy’s jacket tiredly as the conversation continued.  He didn’t care about how he was being perceived, or standing straight, or kissing this man’s ass.  He stood there, hanging off of Niall like some child, just like he’d been doing when Harry’d spoken to him for the first time after getting knocked out with a football.  That was when he had his arms wrapped around Niall from behind, appearing innocent and harmless, Harry completely oblivious as to how the boy was about to fuck up his life.

The grin left his face after a moment though, when he remembered that Louis had never even merely mentioned Harry’s name to his family.  It also didn’t help that he was still pretty displeased with Louis about that day when he’d almost hooked up with Harry without a single regard for who Harry was to him or why it would've ruined everything.  Obviously, Harry couldn’t ignore the fact that he put a stop to it, coming up with some ridiculous excuse that he couldn’t screw Harry with his shirt on.  The boy got a few ounces of forgiveness from Harry for that one, because they probably would’ve never stopped, and Louis was aware of that.

“What’s up people?” he heard a female voice call from above them.  His eyes moved up to find Olivia, just as she crashed down on the couch, right in the space between Zayn and Harry.  She held a glass of champagne in her hand as she sat.

“Joining the Forgotten Lovers Club?” Zayn asked, holding out a hand in the air for Olivia.

She clasped it with a laugh before letting out a sigh.  “Yep.  I wonder if stuff like this will get even worse when they make it big.”

“I can’t _imagine_ having to wait longer than I am now to get Niall’s attention,” Zayn replied with a huff, before sinking into the couch.  “What could they possibly be talking about for _this_ long?”

“No idea,” Olivia replied, crossing her legs over each other.

All three of them sat for a while, observing their surroundings and feeling quite abandoned at the moment.  Harry picked at a tiny loose thread on his jeans as his eyes scanned the club.

When his gaze slid over to the bar area, Harry wasn’t pleased to find some guy, dressed in an expensive looking suit and drinking from a glass.  The guy’s hungry eyes focused purely on Louis, although the boy was practically all the way across the club.  It was kind of ridiculous, the fact that Harry noticed this with all the many faces floating around.  It stood out like a sore thumb, this ridiculously cocky looking guy, eyeing Louis thoroughly.  Harry’s hand curled around his thigh, gripping it tightly as he tried to control his urge to walk right over to him and turn his head in the other direction so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of ogling at Louis.

Luckily, when Harry brought his eyes back over to Louis, the boy wasn’t staring back at this guy as he continued to hang off of Niall and look down at his shuffling feet.  Harry could tell he was growing sleepy, because he was becoming restless, and he just wanted to take the boy home and stroke his hair until he fell into a heavenly sleep.

Harry let out a tragic sigh as he looked back down at his lap, feeling pathetic about all these internal longings he had for Louis while the boy’s deepest desire for Harry began and ended at getting into his pants.  It made him feel fucking stupid.

When he turned his head to the side for a moment to take in the fact that the three of them were sitting on this couch together, that was when he realized they were all the second halves to a soulmate pairing.  Two of them were actually a _thing_ , however.

“How does it feel to find your soulmate?” Harry asked Olivia, his voice barely loud enough to be heard.  The girl grasped what he said anyway, and a smile quickly grew across her face as she glanced across the floor at Liam.

“Curious one, aren’t you?” she asked teasingly, giving Harry a pointed look.

Harry chuckled in return, not keen on giving away the real reason as to why he was asking such a sudden question.

“Well…” she started, moving her kinky hair out of her face a bit.  “At first, with Liam, I didn’t really know.  I actually hated his guts, if I’m being quite honest.”

Harry’s lips parted at this, because he thought pretty much all soulmate pairings met with swirly hearts rotating over their heads.  He had assumed his and Louis’ situation was a rare, pathetic case.

“I didn’t like him at all, but for some reason, I wanted him around,” she explained, her eyes fully lit.  “Even when he asked me out on a date five times and I rejected him repeatedly, I still anticipated the next time he would ask.  I didn’t realize I actually liked him until he finally gave up.”  She laughed at herself for a moment, probably going back to that exact time.  “There was just this kind of…natural attraction.  Like we were being pulled together, or something.  The first time I ever met him, it was like Liam had this alluring, enlightening magical aura about him.  I didn’t realize the magnetic feeling was because of _him_ at first, but when we found out we were soulmates, it all made sense.”

Harry’s mouth remained agape, because not only had the start of their relationship been rocky, but she was pinpointing some of Harry’s feelings about Louis _right on the head_.

“It’s kind of something you just know,” she said with a laugh.  “He was somehow always around, days spent away from him were complete _torture_ , and we were aggressively protective over each other before we even established ourselves with friends.  That stuff doesn’t happen with regular people.”

Harry’s eyes were now unfocused as he stared at an area on the marble ground.  “It doesn’t…”

“Yep, it doesn’t.”  She took a long sip of her champagne, allowing her words to dangle in the air and force themselves into Harry’s mind.

He’d pretty much known Louis was his soulmate— _obviously_ , but damn.  Louis was his soulmate.  That boy, standing over there, half asleep against Niall’s shoulder, was his _soulmate_.  His mate of soul.  His other half.  That was pretty wild, if Harry did say so himself.

This stuff was _real_.

As if the universe had been rejoicing in Harry’s realization and acceptance, the boys said their goodbyes to the men and immediately, Louis started dragging his feet over to Harry, his hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket.

The boy came over and squeezed himself into the small area between Harry and the armrest of the couch, and Harry didn’t even begin to dwell on the fact that he managed to fit.

“I’m fucking _exhausted_ ,” Louis groaned, leaning into Harry’s shoulder as he yawned.  “But my mum is here and probably wants to go have dinner or something.”

Just like that, Harry was reminded of the fact that Louis’ mum hadn’t the faintest idea of who Harry was when he’d introduced himself, which _then_ reminded Harry that he couldn’t have meant that much to Louis anyway because of the fact that they’d almost gone all the way with each other.

What even _was_ the point of any of this if he wasn’t important to Louis?  It made him feel unappreciated and taken for granted, but of course, the boy could’ve cared less.

“Cool,” Harry replied monotonously, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and starting to scroll through it boredly.

“My mum is the one in the maroon suit.  Did you know that?” Louis asked, pointing somewhere in the crowd.

Harry didn’t even look up as he continued to glue his eyes to the feed on his phone screen.  “Mhm.”

He could see Louis in his peripheral vision, narrowing his eyes at the side of Harry’s face.  “My sister is the one with the bright hair,” he added, as though it was an interesting fact.

“Ah,” Harry replied boredly.

“Tonight was probably our most important show ever,” Louis continued, latching both of his gloved hands onto Harry’s left arm as he leaned in closely to him.  “ _Ever_.”

Harry rolled his eyes from underneath the safety of his sunglasses.  “I heard.”

Louis let out the longest, most exhausted breath that blew air onto Harry’s right cheek.  “It was our most important show, Harry,” he pressed, shaking the boy’s arm a bit.  “And you weren’t fucking there.”

This was enough to spark Harry’s attention, because he hadn’t thought the boy actually cared, but he had already begun giving him uninterested replies, so he was going to continue.  “Interesting,” he replied, his phone glued to his hand.

Louis released his grip on Harry, pulling away.  “ _Really_ , Harry?  Fine,” he snapped, already moving to push himself up from the couch.

Harry’s hand was hard and unmoving when he reached for Louis, pulling him back down by grabbing his hand.  He laced their fingers together as Louis settled back into the couch cushion slowly, his eyes sad as he stared at Harry.

“I know where you’re going, and it’s not happening,” Harry replied, continuing to hold onto Louis’ hand firmly.

Louis’ lips parted and closed a few times as he stared at Harry, holding the boy’s hand just as tight as Harry was holding his.  “What?”

“That guy,” Harry started, tilting his head toward the bar area.  “He’s been eyeing you the whole night.”

Louis shook his head slowly, puzzlement on his face as he looked around.  “I didn’t even notice any guy…”

“You didn’t?”

Louis shook his head again, reaching forward with his free hand in order to push Harry’s glasses off of his face and into his hair, providing Harry with a more pristine view of the majestic looking features of his face, seemingly enchanted by the graceful lights.

Louis’ voice was soft and genuine.  “I wasn’t going to go to him.”

“So if you had actually noticed him checking you out, you’re telling me that you wouldn’t pursue him?” Harry asked, his tone of voice showing he clearly wasn’t buying it.

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, as though him hooking up with some random guy in a bar was unheard of.  “Why would I do that when I’ve got you right here?”

“I’m not your hookup buddy,” Harry replied, absentmindedly stroking his thumb over Louis' bare fingers.

Louis’ free hand collided with Harry’s chest, and it only caused a slight twinge of pain.  “That’s not what I meant, you dickbag.”

“I believe the proper term you’re looking for is dickhead,” Harry corrected him.

“Maybe I _meant_ to say dickbag.  Maybe it’s a new word I invented,” Louis replied, his words not running together _too_ much, but just enough for Harry to notice.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight by any chance?”

Louis held up his fingers to symbolize a tiny amount.  “Just a bit,” he replied, before burying his comforting giggles into Harry’s shoulder, their fingers still intertwined.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you olivia, for smacking some sense into harry. we live for you, we long for youuu


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after this, there are four more chapters and an epilogue and honestly, that was super fast lol

 

 

The light breeze whirling around Harry and providing him with a comforting warmth reminded him that the end of winter was approaching, which meant the beauty of spring was just around the corner.  This also meant that spring _break_ would be happening soon, and Harry would get yet another break from all the coursework, ridiculous professors, and midnight deadlines.  It also meant time away from Louis, but he didn’t want to dwell on that too much.

He tried to let the cool weather calm him as he stood in front of the vending machine that was right outside of the English building.  Harry wasn’t usually one to purchase junk food out of a rectangular box that had probably been sitting out for months on end, but he had been desperate this time, because he’d had to rush out of his flat without eating breakfast that morning.  _All_ he wanted was a bag of unhealthy, greasy chips, but of course, the universe couldn’t even grant him _that_.  As soon as he’d put his dollar in and pressed for the bag, he stood there and watched while literally nothing happened.  Complete _silence_ from the rectangular junk food box.

Harry ended up kicking the machine hard with the tip of his shoe, because he was _hungry_ damn it, and he wasn’t going to attend the next class he had in ten minutes with an empty stomach.

He heard a condescending laugh from next to him as he tried to shake the machine so it would do _anything_.  He turned his head to the side, not too surprised to see Eli inserting a dollar into the drink machine next to him.

“Can’t get your dollar back, huh?” he asked teasingly.  “Must be rich kid problems.”

Harry reached into his wallet for another dollar, feeling that maybe the machine just didn’t work for that particular bag.  “What do you _want_?” Harry asked tiredly, inserting his dollar with concentration.

He received no answer in response as he pressed for a different bag and got the same thing— _nothing_.  He couldn’t help but huff and puff, Eli going right back into his wretched sounding snickers aimed in Harry’s direction.

“ _What,_ Eli?” Harry asked again, this time fully facing the boy.  “Seriously, what do you want from me?  Why are you always taunting me?  _Why_ do you fucking hate me?”

Eli’s laughs calmed down a bit as Harry stared at him with his features full of sincerity.  The sounds came to a stop when he realized Harry was being genuine, and he shifted the water bottle he had between his hands as he took a step forward, the features of his face set in determination.

“Because you’re annoying,” he replied simply.

Harry’s eyebrows knit together slightly as he looked around for a moment.  “I don’t even _do_ anyth—“

“Because you can’t let me have anything,” Eli continued, crossing his arms firmly.

Harry’s mouth closed as he tried to understand what the hell Eli was talking about, especially since the boy’s face was now as hard as a rock as he stared at Harry with all the distaste in the world.

“I _had_ Louis, and you couldn’t even allow that,” he said, his face only softening into something more insecure for half a second.  “And you knew—you fucking _knew_ I liked him—“

“Hold on, alright?” Harry said, his expression hardening as he took a challenging step toward Eli.  “I never knew that you _liked_ Louis, okay?  How was I supposed to know that you wanted him for more than a shag?  How was I supposed to know that you weren’t just trying to get his attention because you noticed me starting to take an interest in him?”

“Oh shut _up_ , Harry,” Eli replied, shaking his head.  “You _knew_ I had feelings for him, and that’s why you had to go and feed him _whatever_ bullshit you fed him, so that he barely even talks to me anymore!”

“I didn’t…” Harry started, his voice filled with power but slowly fading away at the end as he tried to remember events in his mind.  Harry couldn’t think of any time he’d fed “bullshit” to Louis about seeing Eli…well, except that time when he made Louis feel guilty for sleeping with the boy.  Was that when Louis stopped talking to him?

So.  Harry _did_ cause that, didn’t he?  He would’ve been lying if he didn’t admit he felt a little bad.

Eli nodded his head bitterly before turning around to leave.  “That’s what I thought.”

Harry didn’t waste any time before stalking forward so he could grab Eli by the shoulder and turn him around, resulting in a warning glare being thrown in his direction.  “Don’t act like you only hate me because of a boy.  Ever since I’ve stepped into this university, you’ve _always_ hated me!”

“Because you have _everything_ , yet you still want more!” Eli yelled, his voice one of pure rage.  His finger punctured Harry’s chest when the boy pointed at him aggressively.  “You instantly got into this school at the last minute while I was put on a waiting list, you don’t have to work for anything because it’s all handed to you, and now you’re going out of your way to make sure I don’t have the only guy here who I even give a shit about.”

Harry’s lips parted as his eyes grew big, staring Eli into his enraged ones.  “I…”

“You don’t understand, okay?” Eli started, his voice slightly weak although still powerful.  “I was put on a fucking waiting list for my _dream school,_ this school that I’ve been planning to attend ever since I was kid, and out of nowhere, you get to slide by and enroll at the last fucking minute.  So _excuse me_ for being a little fucking bitter about that, along with the fact that my mother is now taking on an extra job so I can pay off thousands of dollars in debt!”

Harry shook his head slowly, raising up a comforting hand which Eli immediately shook off.  “I didn’t know, Eli.”

“Of course you didn’t know,” he replied sarcastically.

“I’m serious,” Harry replied, his voice quiet.  There was silence for a moment, Harry small and confused as Eli remained on edge.  “Listen, I’m really sorry.  I never knew any of that—I thought—“

“Just save it,” Eli spat, before turning around to stalk away.  Harry let him leave as he stood there, eyes focused on the ground as he felt significantly guilty about destroying people around him without even knowing it.

This feeling hovered over his head like a sad violin for quite a while, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized that everything Eli had said was right.  Every _single_ thing.  Harry would’ve definitely despised himself as well if he were Eli, because there actually _had_ been very few spots left at the school when Harry applied, but the board chose to overlook it.  So not only was Harry fairly certain he’d probably taken Eli’s spot and put him on the waiting list, but he also went the extra mile to make sure he didn’t have Louis anymore either.  Harry knew he didn’t need to feel bad about the Louis situation, because Louis was _his_ soulmate after all, and he loved Louis more than anybody else in the world ever would or could, but he still felt bad nonetheless.  He hoped Louis didn’t stop talking to Eli because of Harry screaming in his face, crying about how they slept together.  That was never his intention.

Harry found himself in his bedroom, where he was supposed to get some studying in, thinking about this whole ordeal and how to make it better.  He was sat on his bed, his notebooks and textbooks spread out in front of him as he tried to retain information.  It didn’t help that Louis was in his closet, making loud noises as he moved through Harry’s clothes in order to see what he could try on.

“I’ve never seen you wear this,” he heard Louis say, right before he appeared upon entering into the bedroom from his bathroom.  The boy was shirtless, even though a long sleeved black, mesh shirt dangled from his hands.  Harry always had to tear his eyes away from Louis’ body when he was shirtless—not because of dirty, inappropriate things, but because he always felt uneasy seeing the tattoo in perfect lighting.  It was weird because he, himself, was well aware that they both had the rose and dagger, but Louis was completely oblivious.  It almost felt sneaky, so every time Louis was shirtless, Harry kept his eyes someplace else.

“Why?” Louis continued when Harry shot his eyes back down to his notebook.

“It uh…” Harry started, flipping a page in his textbook.  “It’s too transparent.  Might as well not wear anything.”

“Then why did you buy it, genius?” Louis asked, his voice fading as he entered back into the bathroom.

“I think I was mad about something,” Harry called out.  “Being angry and shopping don’t mix with me.”

“Good to know!” Louis yelled.

There was more shuffling from the closet as Harry tried to focus purely on studying, and he managed to be productive for quite a few minutes before Louis came out again, this time closing the bathroom door behind himself.  He was wearing a navy blue Burberry jacket of Harry’s and it looked absolutely gigantic on him as he waltzed over to Harry’s bed.  He also was only wearing his briefs underneath.

“And why did you take off your pants?” Harry asked curiously as Louis sat right in the midst of everything he had been working on.

Louis grinned sweetly as he smoothed Harry’s shirt at the shoulders.  “Everyone knows huge jackets look cute with underwear.”

“Sure,” Harry replied with a tight grin, before gripping Louis underneath his arms and easily moving him out of his studying area.  “Now I have to study, so—“

“ _I’m_ more important than Biology, Harry,” Louis whined, crawling back over, right on top of Harry’s books once again.  “I’m skipping class for you right now, and you can’t even pay me attention?”

Harry’s eyes focused on Louis’ as he drew his eyebrows together.  “You’re skipping class right now?  That’s not how I raised you.”

Louis rolled his eyes.  “Don’t act like you’re the perfect star student now,” he replied.  “As if you don’t sleep through half of your classes.”

“I’m a star student when it matters,” Harry retorted, tapping his pencil against his lap pointedly.  “Like right now, during exams.”

“Oh shut up,” Louis huffed, shoving Harry back playfully and getting an equally playful one in response.

It didn’t take long for their shoving to evolve into a lighthearted wrestle on top of Harry’s bed, all of his studying materials scattering as Louis giggled breathily underneath him, eventually managing to get him into a chokehold.

“Don’t underestimate my strength, Styles,” Louis laughed as he held Harry, right before Harry escaped his grasp and seized both of Louis’ wrists, pinning him down as the boy gasped.

“What was that?” Harry asked, looming over him as Louis appeared thoroughly taken aback from the sudden change of positions, as well as probably turned on.  Harry wasn’t going to make _that_ mistake again however, so he released the boy, instead curving his arms around his back and bringing him in close as he dug his nose into the boy’s chest.

“Since I won, you have to cuddle me as much as I want,” Harry mumbled into the jacket, holding him close as Louis struggled to break free.

“This is _torture_ ,” Louis said dramatically, his hands in Harry’s hair as he attempted to force the boy off of him.  “I demand another round.”

“Nope,” Harry said, pushing himself up until his nose was right in the crook of Louis’ neck.  “You lost, and now you have to cuddle me.”

Louis eventually gave in with a huff, although Harry could sense the boy’s smile as he wrapped his arms around Harry, burying his fingers deep in his curls.

They laid there for a while, both of their breaths taking a moment to ease from all the action, and Harry feeling completely at peace with Louis’ chest moving underneath him, along with their legs intertwined.  It didn’t take long for the peace and quiet to remind Harry of what he’d wanted to forget.

“Did you like Eli?” he asked out of nowhere, his words mumbled into Louis’ neck at low volume.

There was a quiet moment, Louis slowly stroking his hair as he remained still underneath him.  The moment stretched for quite some time, leading Harry to begin to think Louis wasn’t going to answer him.

“Kinda,” Louis replied quietly.  “Why?”

Harry closed his eyes dejectedly and buried his face deeper in Louis’ skin, feeling sufficiently shitty and worthy of being called all the things that Eli had called him thus far.  _Why_ did he always have to fuck everything up for his own personal gain?  Why did he never realize it whilst it was happening?  Now he had to go and ruin things once again, because he didn’t know when to shut his mouth.

“I kinda, might’ve…” Harry started, before letting out another long sigh.  “I told him one day that you didn’t like him.  I sorta…sent him off.  I don’t know if that’s why things stopped between you two or if it was because I made you feel bad for sleeping with him, which—you don’t have to feel bad about that, because you’re your own person and can do what you want…” Harry rambled on, desperate to make himself sound better than he actually was.  “I didn’t know you liked him and I didn’t know he liked you and I didn’t mean to—“

He was cut off by Louis pulling him out of his neck by his hair, just enough to position his face underneath Harry’s so their lips could attach.  It took Harry by surprise, but he sunk into it, tenderly pressing his mouth against Louis’ as he felt the boy’s dainty fingers curve around his neck.  Louis pulled back with one last, thorough suck of Harry’s lips into his own, before he pressed their noses together.

“You’re sexy when you’re possessive,” Louis whispered.

Harry giggled softly, his lips ghosting over Louis’ with every sound.  “That’s all you have to say?”

Louis’ hands smoothed down Harry’s waist as he took a moment.  “I mean, it wasn’t going to happen anyway.  Can’t be with someone that doesn’t like my best friend.  That’s a deal breaker.”

Harry’s entire face immediately lit up as Louis’ cheeks flushed—probably because the boy hadn’t realized that he’d deemed Harry as his best friend.  Harry was aware that they were soulmates, and he wanted so much more out of Louis than he was probably willing to give, but hearing the boy call him that—to have it out there in the open, official and confident—made Harry’s stomach twirl.  He’d never _heard_ anyone call him their best friend before, so it was highly refreshing.  Hearing it made him feel as though he was a part of something special.

“Your best friend?” Harry asked.

Louis rolled his eyes as he tried to push Harry off of him.  “Here we go…”

“Shall I purchase us some friendship bracelets?” Harry asked, maintaining his position above Louis.

“I’m literally _begging_ you—“

“Or maybe a friendship _ring_.”

“I’ll make you shut up.”

“Okay, but have you ever heard of friendship _anklets_ —“

He was interrupted by Louis rolling them over and quickly digging his fingers into Harry’s sides, causing him to laugh uncontrollably as all the words escaped him.  Louis continued to tickle him as Harry tried to push him off, a permanent smile on his face as the pain of laughing so much started to get to him.

“Stop— _please_ ,” Harry begged between giggles, Louis now chuckling as he tickled at his armpits.

Just when Harry thought he was about to die from lack of breathing and overload of laughing, his bedroom door swung open, and Louis’ fingers ceased to poke at him.  It took a moment for Harry’s laughter to come to a stop as he stared at Liam in his doorway, wearing what looked like Spiderman pajama pants and a baseball tee, his book bag hung over his shoulder.

“Louis, our next class starts in five minutes, and you’re going whether you like it or not,” Liam said tiredly.

Harry watched as Louis frowned at Liam.  “Do I _have_ to?”

Liam nodded his head.  “Mr. Gary already told me that if you skipped another day he was going to start taking disciplinary action, so c’mon,” Liam replied, snapping his fingers impatiently.  “You’re not getting kicked out of uni and breaking up The Red Rogue before we play at Carnegie Hall.  Put on some pants and let’s go.”

Louis let out the most dramatic groan known to man as he shuffled off of Harry’s bed, reaching for the first sweatpants that were visible on the floor (and also Harry’s).  Once he slipped them on, he tied the string at the front of it about five times so they wouldn’t slip off of his waist.

Harry chuckled at how solemnly Louis dragged his feet over to his backpack, which was laying against the floor from when he’d throwing it upon entering Harry’s bedroom.  He waved a lazy hand behind him as he left out, following behind Liam.

Harry couldn’t control his illuminating smile of adoration as he followed them into the living room, his thumbs twiddling restlessly.  “Text me when you get out,” he said, to which Louis nodded as Liam held the front door open for the both of them.

Liam’s eyes lingered on Harry for a moment as he held the door for Louis, and Harry wasn’t sure of what the boy was thinking.  He seemed sort of skeptical, but of what, Harry hadn’t the slightest clue.

Liam called after Louis as the boy made his way down the hall.  “You go ahead, Louis.  I’ll meet up with you later.”

Harry grinned when he heard Louis groan in understanding, and he was too soft and happy inside to even question when Liam closed the door behind himself and stepped back into his living room.

Liam placed his hands in the pockets of his pajamas as he took slow, casual steps toward Harry.  “So…”

Harry nodded as his facial features went from content to blank, and he took a hesitant seat on his couch.  “So?”

Liam rolled his eyes before walking over to sit by Harry, letting his backpack rest against the cushions in the process.  “So are we gonna talk about this?”

Harry opened his mouth, his hands moving aimlessly as Liam stared at him seriously.  He had no idea of what was happening right now, or why the boy sitting in front of him was suddenly more serious than Harry had ever seen him before.

“Talk about what?” Harry asked, followed by a hesitant laugh.

Liam gestured vaguely as he sat facing Harry.  “You and Louis…doing things…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Harry said with a shrug.

Liam’s eyes remained steady on him as he clasped his hands together on top of his lap, nodding his head slowly.  “Oh, I think there is, Harry.”

“Nope.  We just…” Harry started, letting out an easy breath.  “We like hanging around each other.  We’re best friends.”  He was smiling again by the end of his sentence, not even able to control himself as he beamed like a completely sprung fool.

“Best friends who kiss?” Liam asked.

Just like that, the goofy look was wiped off of Harry’s face.  “Look Liam, it seems to me like you’re just trying to complicate things, and I have had _enough_ of doing that on my own already.”

“I’m not trying to _complicate_ things,” Liam explained, his tone on the defensive.  “This is big, Harry.  Louis is getting attached to you.”

“And?”

“It’s clear that you’re attached to him as well,” Liam continued, as though it was obvious.  Harry took his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt himself flush from having someone point out his feelings so blatantly.

“I’m uh…” Liam started, looking down at his clasped hands in his lap for a moment.  “Louis is practically my brother—all of us in the band are close to him that way.  I’m very protective of him and I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“Are you coming to me as his mother, or what?” Harry asked, giggling.

“Be serious,” Liam said with a sigh.  “What do you want with Louis?  What are you two doing?  _Your_ view on the relationship you two have may be different from his.”

Harry was at a loss for words at the moment, completely clueless as to what to say at this point.  He wasn’t going to lay his heart out on the coffee table to Liam of all people, just so he could go back and tell Louis, but he also was aware that of all the people he knew, Liam would’ve probably been the one who understood most.

Liam leaned in closer, his voice at a minimum and his eyes genuine.  “Is he important to you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered almost immediately, nodding his head.   “He’s the _most_ important thing to me.”

“Then tell him that.”

Harry nearly choked on air as he registered what Liam had said, beating on his chest for a tiny moment.  “What are you _talking_ about?”

“ _You_ ,” Liam pressed.  “You have some strong feelings for him, Harry.  I can tell.  The others might not have noticed, but I have.  It’s almost like I can feel it whenever you step into the room when Louis’ around.”

Harry quickly shook his head, an insecure chuckle escaping his lips.  “I don’t think he wants that, Liam.  Don’t think he, uh…sees me that way.”

“What way?”

Jesus Christ, did Liam want Harry to spell it out for him?  Harry didn’t feel like being vulnerable and assessing his and Louis’ intentions.  He just wanted to joke around with Louis, kiss him sometimes, and nap the pain away whenever he flirted with someone else.  Why couldn’t Liam allow him that?

“In the fucking—“ Harry started, running a stressful hand through his hair.  “In the serious, proper relationship, hold hands, skip off into the sunset type of way!  Damn it, Liam.”

Liam laughed amusedly as he stared at Harry, his face full of gratification at having gotten Harry to finally speak up.  “How do you know he doesn’t see you in that way, though?”

“I just _know_ ,” Harry replied, feeling significantly less fluffy than before this conversation.  “I’m his best friend and I know him.  He’s more of a…casual kind of guy.”

“Maybe with other guys,” Liam said, before pointing at Harry’s chest.  “But what if you’re different?  We haven’t seen him so attached to someone who wasn’t even in the band in quite a while, so I think it means something.”

“Well, I think it’s best that I don’t express my feelings and ruin it all.  Don’t you?” Harry asked.

“How do you _know_ it will ruin everthing?” Liam asked desperately.  “Just…I think you should.  At least think about it.”

Harry smoothed his hands over his thighs, letting out a deep breath as he pondered over what Liam was asking of him.

“Fine,” Harry replied finally.  “I will.”

And he _did._ All week he thought so hard about not doing it, that by the next week, he’d freaked himself out so much at the thought of it, that the idea of doing it was completely vanished from his mind.  He and Louis were perfectly fine at the place they were in right now, and Harry didn’t want to send the boy running by vomiting all of his sappy words and promises.  Sure, every time Harry looked at the boy too long, Louis looked away or diverted his attention, but that was something Harry was going to have to fix about himself.  He needed to remember that Louis wasn’t aware of how much this all meant to Harry, and that he needed to control his intense emotions sometimes.

 

~*~

 

“Want one?” Louis asked, holding out an open bag of caramel popcorn toward Harry.

Harry scrunched up his nose as he went back to scanning his eyes over a page in his textbook.  “I hate caramel popcorn.”

“How _could_ you?” Louis asked, kicking his feet up on top of the library table as he tipped the bag so the popcorn could fall into his mouth.

Harry flipped a page of his textbook.  “I remember eating them once and throwing up after…”

Louis snickered into his hand, tiny pieces of popcorn falling out of his mouth and onto the ground of the carpeted floor in the library.  “When was this?”

“I think I was ten.”

“Then how could you possibly know if you still hate them?” Louis asked, reaching into his bag.  “Now c’mon.  Try one.”

Harry shook his head as he tried his best to study, even though it had been hard to do with Louis’ mouth moving at a never ending pace.  “Nope.”

“C’mon, Harry,” Louis urged, taking a piece and waving it around in front of Harry’s face.  “ _The airplane's about to land_ ,” Louis sang, using a ridiculous, patronizing voice.  He made plane sounds with his mouth as Harry pushed him away, but Louis still proceeded to make numerous attempts at feeding him, resulting in many different pieces of popcorn falling to the ground and causing them to laugh at hushed volumes.

“Um.  Guys,” Niall said, causing Harry to pause his act of stuffing popcorn down Louis’ shirt to look at the boy.  He was seated at the same library table, and he was sat across from them, Zayn right by his side as they both studied diligently.

“Just, you know…” Niall continued, bringing his finger to his lips as he made a soft _shhh_ sound.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, pushing Louis’ face back with his hand.

“You guys are boring,” Louis commented, his words mumbled through a mouth full of popcorn as he finally settled back into his own seat.

Harry turned to look at Louis, who he found, didn’t even have any books on the table in front of him.  His eyes also traced over Louis’ collarbones from where his own jacket was hanging off of his shoulders.  The boy was wearing another one of Harry’s clothing items today, this one being a denim jacket that was already big enough on Harry as it was.

“Some of us have _exams_ we’d like to study for,” Zayn commented.

“That’s not _my_ problem,” Louis retorted, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Oh, but it _is_ ,” Harry said quietly, reaching out and stroking Louis’ hair.  “If you don’t study, you’re going to fail.”

Louis shrugged as he yawned into his fist.  “Whatever.  I’m just ready for the break to come around.”

“Are you going home?” Harry asked as he jotted something down in his notebook.

Louis shrugged yet again.  “Dunno.  You?”

Harry shook his head slowly, the tip of his pencil pressed against his chin.  “I’m not sure.  Don’t have any solid plans.”

“Me neither,” Louis replied.  “Especially now that I’ve quit that stupid job.”

“Excuse me,” Niall intervened, putting up a hand.  “We have _tons_ of practice to do this spring break.  Pretty much every day we’re not performing we’re gonna be practicing.”

“Do you not understand the meaning of the word _break?_ ” Louis asked with a groan.  “God, when did you all get so _boring_?”

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Zayn said, reaching out to grab Niall’s chin.  “My sweet pickle is not _boring_.”

“Your sweet _what_?” Louis asked, his eyebrows fixed in disbelief.

“Pickle,” Niall said, a bashful grin now spread across his rosy cheeks.  “Because I’m sweet and savory.”

Harry kept the laugh he was holding behind tight lips as Louis visibly made a show of gagging.

“I’m completely over this quiet boringness,” Louis started, already pushing his seat back and away from the table.  “Harry, you leaving with me?”

Harry looked down at all of his work spread across the table as his lips parted, not having been prepared to leave so abruptly.

“C’mon Harry, I don’t have all day,” Louis said.

“Okay, okay,” Harry whined, moving quickly to pack all of his stuff and ignoring the observatory eye Zayn was giving him.  “Where are we even _going_?”

“I dunno yet,” Louis replied as he stood up, moving to help Harry pack up all his stuff.  “We’ll figure it out.”

“See you guys,” Harry said with one last wave in Zayn and Niall’s direction as he swung his bag over his shoulder.  Zayn was full on smirking at him, a knowing look spread across his face as he waved at Harry in return.

Right before Harry could turn around to follow Louis out of the library, the boy motioned for Harry to text him, which proved to Harry that he did in fact, know something, and couldn’t wait to babble about it for days on end.

Harry did as told on the way outside, both terrified and filled with anticipation about the unknown, which was, whatever Zayn wanted to talk about.

 **Harry:** _what?_

He didn’t get an answer straight away, which was probably Zayn being his usual dramatic self and attempting to build suspense.

He continued to wait for Zayn’s reply, even as he made the bad decision of giving Louis his car keys after the boy begged him endlessly.

“Do you even have your driver’s license?” Harry asked as he slid into the passenger seat of his own car, his phone still having yet to vibrate.

“Of course,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes.  “What kind of question is that?”

The boy seemed to know where he was going as he made turn after turn, only causing Harry’s heart to jump from time to time when he would accelerate well over the speed limit.

They ended up driving for quite a while, Harry sinking into his seat instead of questioning where they were going as Louis kept steady eyes on the road.  He reveled in the calming feeling of watching the street lights and neon signs fly by the window as they traveled, the radio at a low volume and playing amidst the background of it all.

Only when a seashore came into view and Louis started slowing down, did Harry’s interest perk up.  There were a few people by the water, some wading through it and some sitting at the edge where the sand met liquid, their bare feet out in front of them.

“I get nervous around you and water,” Harry said softly, his eyes still out the window.

Louis’ laugh hummed gently throughout the car as he glanced at Harry briefly.  “Shut up.”

The boy brought the vehicle to a slow stop alongside other cars that were also situated near the area.  Harry’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion when the boy took off his seatbelt and opened his door.

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” Harry asked, even as he opened his door as well.

“Just c’mon,” Louis said quietly, rounding the car in order to grab Harry’s arm and gently pull him along.

Harry complied easily, not even bothering to worry about his expensive shoes burying themselves in the sand because of how his mind was clouded with the fact that he was with Louis right now.  Often when he was with Louis, many things that usually mattered to him—the materialistic, empty things—didn’t matter anymore.  It was as though the importance of all else disappeared once Louis was in his vicinity, and a gentle glow surrounded the boy everywhere he went.

Louis walked them to the very area where the water faintly brushed against the sand from time to time, and that was where they came to a stop, Louis’ eyes blinking ahead as Harry stared at him like he was the only view that mattered at the moment.

“Now we sit,” Louis nearly whispered, his eyes soft and innocent as he pulled Harry down with him, both of them settling into the sand like it was nothing.  Harry didn’t question it either, just kept his eyes glued to the side of Louis’ face in wonder, tracing every feature of his profile like he wouldn’t get a chance to see him like this, bathed in moonlight, ever again.

“I usually do this alone,” Louis said, still holding onto Harry’s arm as he kicked off his shoes and let his striped socks settle against the sand.

The water came up and washed away just about a foot away from them, leaving them with the gentle breeze of the tide.

“You come all the way out here _alone_?” Harry asked, serious although not raising his voice an octave in order to keep everything peaceful.

Louis chuckled lightly.  “Yes.  I just sit here…I watch everything and be silent…”

“For once,” Harry teased, resulting in a shove from Louis.

“Okay, but really,” Louis laughed, sitting back on his hands.  “Just sit and watch this with me.  It’s calming.”

Harry took another breath as he looked at the side of Louis’ face staring ahead, before he decided that maybe he should focus on something besides the boy’s face in order to fulfill the purpose of why they were there.  He shifted his head forward, his eyes landing upon the soft, blackish blue hues the night sky was casting upon the ocean.  The slow way the water moved, how it always seemed like it was coming toward them at high speed, only to come to a stop a few feet away from them and wash away once again.  The sky was littered with tiny dots of stars, as well as the crescent moon present among them.  As Harry watched the few people walking through the water, nostalgic giggles as friends tried to tackle each other, and he felt the sensation of his fingers sinking into the sand, he started to feel the calm Louis had been talking about.

The two of them had been quiet for quite some time, just sitting and watching, sharing soft breaths as they remained beside each other.  For once, Harry’s mind wasn’t even crowded with stressful thoughts or ways he could create problems out of nothing—his mind was the closest it had ever been to quiet, and he fully enjoyed it.

He hadn’t even known how long they’d been sitting there in silence before Louis spoke.

“Sometimes things just get…too overwhelming,” Louis said, his voice tender.  “And I just need this.”

Harry didn’t have to ask him to elaborate to know exactly what he was talking about.  Things had gotten a lot busier with the band, and The Red Rogue was no longer the immature, fun-having band Harry had met at the beginning of the year.  They had all begun to take this whole thing a lot more seriously, which was a good thing and exactly what they needed, but Harry could tell it was a hard and swift transition for Louis.  He was making a fair amount of money from the many gigs they’d been booking, but Harry was pretty sure it was all still far more exhausting  than the supermarket job he’d quit.  Harry just had to hope that the boy looked at the bigger picture and realized all of this extra work and pressure was going to ultimately help them.

Harry reached into Louis’ lap in order to take his hand, letting their fingers lace together as slow as the ripples moved across the water in front of them.  Louis didn’t budge one bit as he let his fingers fall between Harry’s, his eyes unmoving from the ocean.

“I need this too,” Harry replied, letting his head gently fall against Louis’ shoulder.

They sat in silence again, just watching the view in front of them as their palms pressed against one another.  Harry got the motivation to do many things as he took in the beautiful setting around him—he felt like in that moment, anything could be done.  Maybe he could fly, or read minds.  Maybe he could tell this boy sitting next to him just how much he meant to him, let him know every little detail about his longing for him, how he wanted more, all he could get until there was no possible way the love could run out between them.  Maybe he could tell Louis right here and now, and things could be lovely and they could live happily ever after like all of the cliché movies.

Or maybe he could tell Louis, and then the boy would get this distant look in his eye, and gradually stop texting Harry as much, eventually ceasing to speak to him at all.

Harry instead chose to just continue to sit in silence, nestling his head deeper into Louis’ shoulder.

When he pulled his phone out of his back pocket after a long period, he was shocked to find that he hadn’t even felt it vibrate.  There Zayn’s name was, bright across the screen as his text was displayed underneath:

 **Zayn:** _wat the actual fuck is going on with u and louis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder if anyone noticed what i so casually slipped into this chapter


	21. Chapter 21

“No Zayn,” Cecile started.  “See, this is a tangerine.  Big difference.”

Zayn rolled his eyes as he brought his knees up in order to bring his textbook closer to his face.  “That’s just a fancy name for an orange.”

“No it’s not,” Cecile said with frustration, peeling a piece of the tangerine away from the others.  “Harry, isn’t there a _clear_ difference between tangerines and oranges?”

Harry couldn’t help but giggle as he took a sip from his water bottle, not wanting this tiny moment of power to end so soon.  “Isn’t it the size, or something?”

“Exactly,” Cecile said, turning back to Zayn with a content grin.

Harry laughed, watching as Zayn mocked Cecile’s high pitched voice before going on about how ridiculous she was.  They all sat in the grass, supposedly studying, but mostly making conversation about nothing, probably because none of them really _wanted_ to study.

Sitting there in the middle of the student park, with several other people surrounding them doing the exact same thing, Harry couldn’t help but observe that the three of them was all there used to be.  During the summer, before Harry had come to uni, it had just been the three of them—Harry, Zayn, and Cecile, and Harry had thought he was perfectly content.  Looking back now, he realized how void whatever relationships they’d had with each other were, and how everything had grown into a much more genuine state at this point.  Maybe Harry’s life _needed_ things like the breakup he had with Cecile, or the harsh fight he’d gone through with Zayn, in order to realize they all acknowledged the flaws in each other yet still appreciated the other as a person.  It gave Harry a motivation to work to be better—to be a completely different person from who he was last summer.

He and Cecile had gradually gotten back to normal, and he was glad the girl understood that when he said there were no hard feelings, there were actually _no_ hard feelings.  She was a genuine friend to him, just like he was to her, and he was grateful that they were able to recognize that without committing themselves to some superficial, status-driven relationship.

“Can’t believe our first year of uni is already almost over,” Cecile said, peeling off another piece of her orange.

“Don’t even know how I got through it,” Zayn commented, raising his eyebrows.  “Probably because of Niall.”

Harry gasped in dramatic disbelief.  “And _me_ , thank you very much.  I’ve provided you with free tacos and movie nights.”

“You did?” Zayn laughed.

Harry jabbed him in his arm.  “ _I_ am the reason you and Niall even know you’re soulmates.”

“Pretty sure _fate’s_ the reason, but okay,” Zayn said with a teasing roll of his eyes.

Cecile pouted as she let her elbows rest on top of her knees.  “I wish _I_ could meet my other half.  It’s no fair watching you guys—“

She was cut off by Harry tapping his shoe against hers, only a _little_ aggressively, not making it noticeable enough for Zayn to see as his eyes scanned over his textbook.  Cecile blinked at him for a moment, before opening and closing her mouth as she struggled to understand.

“I—I mean,” she started over, now grinning as she understood their unspoken communication.  “It’s no fair watching you guys, as in _you and Niall_ , be all lovey and dovey.”

“I’ve waited my whole _life_ to find my soulmate,” Zayn said, raising his pencil in the air.  Harry tried not to make his sigh _too_ evident as he felt relief from the entire exchange going right over Zayn’s head.

“I’m going to be as disgusting as I want,” Zayn continued.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want Zayn to know, he just wanted to wait a bit.  He hadn’t told _anyone_ but Cecile that Louis was his soulmate yet, and he technically hadn’t even done _that_ , because she’d guessed.  Harry was going to tell Zayn in the future, when things were more certain.  Probably the best time to tell him would’ve been after he told _Louis_ everything he had been feeling inside for a while now, which wasn’t going to happen any time soon.  Zayn was going to have to wait a while.

“I fully understand that,” Cecile said, letting her legs down in order to stretch them out in front of her.  “So Harry, you still going undecided for next year?”

The question caught Harry off guard for a moment, because as ridiculous as it was, Harry hadn’t even thought about his college major (or lack thereof) in months.  He obviously didn’t have one, hence Cecile using the term “undecided”, and at the moment, he _still_ couldn’t think of what he wanted to focus on studying and… _becoming_ one day.  The mere thought was unsettling.

The thing was, he felt like he was being rushed.  The more probable explanation would’ve been that he was just slow, because it seemed like everyone else was breezing through college just fine, completely on board with what they wanted.  Harry wasn’t like that—he barely even knew who he _was_ , so how the fuck was he supposed to decide for the rest of his life at nineteen?  He was too young, and clueless, and indecisive…he needed _time_.

“I have no idea,” Harry answered truthfully.

Zayn chuckled for a moment as he brought his attention away from his book.  “How do you have no idea?  You can’t be unsure forever, especially not sophomore year.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the blades of grass as he grew frustrated.  “I just wish life could pause for a moment.  So I can get a chance to catch up, figure things out.”

“Life wouldn’t be life if there were pauses,” Zayn said, pointing his pencil at Harry.

Harry nodded his head at Zayn, as though those words were the enlightenment of the century.  “Thanks Zayn, for that very deep and meaningful proverb.”

“Your very welcome,” Zayn replied with a proud grin.  “You should tell some of my proverbs to Angel someday.”

A small smile formed on Harry’s face from the thought of that.  “She would probably love them.”

“Angel?” Cecile asked, wiping excess tangerine juice with her sleeve.

Harry blinked for a moment when he realized he hadn’t even told her yet.  “Oh that’s…my sister.  My dad had a baby.  Surprise…”

Cecile’s face lit up as she smiled at Harry.  “That is _so_ cute!  Why didn’t you tell me this?  How old is she?  Does she look like you?”

Before Harry could even answer, she was already opening her mouth to speak again, putting a hand up once a seemingly phenomenal realization dawned upon her.

“Is _that_ why your dad had been acting so odd?” she asked, her eyes turning serious.

Harry nodded solemnly, pressing his lips together.

“I kind of had a feeling that would be the reason,” Cecile said, picking at her orange again.  “But I didn’t want to say it and make you mad.”

“You’re not the first,” Harry replied with a sigh.

A conversation about his sister ensued, which probably lasted longer than Harry was even prepared for.  Harry couldn’t say he was shocked, however, because it wasn’t unknown that Cecile was absolutely obsessed with babies.

All the talk about his family brought him to remember that he hadn’t called his dad in the last week, so he made a plan to do just that whilst making the drive back to his apartment.  He was content when his phone call was actually _answered_ , and although there were tons of noise and extra sounds in the background that indicated his father’s attention wasn’t _fully_ focused on the phone conversation, Harry was still grateful that they even got a chance to talk.

“Is she around?” Harry asked his father at some point, right before he heard that familiar loud babble in the background of the line.

“Yep, she’s right here watching the television,” his father replied.  “Wanna talk to her?”

“Sure,” Harry said, nodding his head eagerly.

He waited as the phone was probably handed over to Angel, and an endeared grin spread across his cheeks as he imagined her holding the phone between two tiny hands, probably fascinated by it beyond compare.

“ _Howie_?” was the first thing she said, and it quickly brought a giggle out from Harry’s lips.

“It _is_ Howie,” Harry said, using his baby voice.  “And how are you?”

He listened to her as she prattled, although he could make out a few words here and there like “good” and “Daddy” and even what sounded like her own personal attempt at saying Gemma’s name.

As Harry listened and grew filled with adoration for every second she spoke, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with anticipation for all the memories they were going to have.  This was just the beginning, and soon Harry would get to watch her learn to walk, and then she would’ve been starting school, and Harry absolutely couldn’t wait for all of it.  Never would he have thought he’d be this happy about having a sister who wasn’t even his mother’s.

He promised her that he’d come to visit soon, and her loud sobbing only lasted for two minutes when she realized Harry was about to hang up.  He kept reassuring her that he would call again however, and with time, her cries came to a stop as she went back to giggling.

 

~*~

 

Harry’s crusted eyes blinked open with difficulty, and he winced away from the bright sun peaking in through his bedroom windows.    He shifted his eyes down to his chest, where Louis’ head was conveniently placed, his cheek squished against Harry’s t-shirt as the boy slept peacefully, faint sounds coming from his lips.  It wouldn’t have been a surprise if there were little stains of drool on Harry’s t-shirt right now, but oddly enough, the thought didn’t disgust Harry and bring him to shove Louis off of his body.

This was one of his favorite things, waking up before Louis and getting to watch the boy sleep for a few minutes before he eventually stirred awake and plotted how he was going to drive Harry wild for the day.  Usually, Harry’d always been the one to wake up at the latest time possible, but since he’d began sleeping with Louis, he’d grown more accustomed to waking up first, as though his subconscious mind wanted him to be awake to see this beautiful view—like the universe was tugging his eyelids open so he would get to witness this.  Either way, it was beautiful, and it didn’t annoy Harry in the slightest.

Harry didn’t move an inch for the thirty minutes it took Louis to stir awake, his breaths growing uneven once he started to shift on top of Harry.

Harry allowed his voice to be just loud enough for Louis to hear it as a gentle alarm.  “Good morning.”

Louis hummed tiredly as he moved some more, turning his head in Harry’s chest and probably trying to fall back asleep.  Harry sighed as he watched him, wondering why the boy still hadn’t realized that once he woke up, it was impossible for him to go back to sleep.  The boy always tried every morning, however.

“Time is it?” Louis mumbled.

“Almost one…I think,” Harry replied, allowing his hand to slide up and down Louis’ back comfortingly.  Louis sunk into his touch, letting out a satisfactory sigh as his fingers gripped softly onto the side of Harry’s t-shirt.

Louis finally moved his head so that his chin was rested on Harry’s chest, his blue eyes tired and alluring.  “We don’t have classes today do we?”

Harry chuckled as he shook his head.  “No.  Today is Sunday.”

“And then the break is the week after this one, right?”

“Yep,” Harry nodded, still dragging his fingers across Louis’ shirt.  “And my mum wants me to visit home again, so…”

Louis parted his lips as his eyebrows knit together.  “You’re leaving me?”

“You didn’t even say you _wanted_ me to stay.”

“So now I have to say _everything,_ don’t I?” Louis huffed.

Harry raised his eyebrows.  “Yes, you do.”

Louis didn’t offer a response other than rolling his eyes before letting his head fall right back on top of Harry’s chest.

“You know…” Harry started, before blowing a yawn into his fist.  “I wouldn’t mind sneaking you through the airport.”  He couldn’t help but snicker at himself as he poked at Louis’ side, the boy squirming away like a puppy.  “You could probably fit inside one of my suitcases.”

Louis brought his head back up to look at Harry, his eyes full of determination now.  “You wanna take me with you?”

Harry opened his mouth, his eyes confused because, yes, he’d definitely just implied that, but he also had no idea of what he was talking about.  The early mornings and the late nights were the moments where his word-vomiting was at an all time high.

“Yeah…” he replied, his eyes locked on Louis’.

“Then get me a plane ticket,” Louis said easily, resting one of his arms on top of Harry’s chest.

One of Harry’s eyebrows rose as his mouth lingered open.  “Okay.”

Sure enough, he ended up doing exactly that, and by the end of the week, Louis was in his bedroom with two duffle bags of packed belongings, helping Harry to finish filling his suitcase.

Harry had no idea of what he was doing, and was well aware that he had absolutely _no_ idea of how he was going to explain Louis to his mother when he got home, but he had been going through with it for an entire week now, so he couldn’t backtrack.  He _did_ want to bring Louis home, especially since the boy had been so tragically distressed at the thought of Harry leaving him, but Harry wanted Louis to meet his mother at another time—preferably a time when they would’ve been an official thing, and she could prepare a dinner for them and buy Louis tons of unnecessary presents.  If he brought Louis now, he wouldn’t even know how to introduce him, because the boy wasn’t simply his “friend”, but he certainly wasn’t his boyfriend either.

Harry definitely wasn’t going to bail on Louis and leave him to fend for himself at the last minute, so all of the panicked thoughts were doing absolutely nothing for him right now.

“Are we finally done?” Louis asked as Harry zipped up his last suitcase.

“I think so,” Harry replied with a grunt, before standing up to pull the handle.

Louis sighed before reaching down to pick up his duffle bags.  He made his way out of the bedroom and toward Harry’s front door as he mumbled.  “I was hoping we could get some food on the—“

The abrupt end of his sentence left Harry confused as he flicked off his bedroom light, wondering why Louis had paused.  He held one of his bags and rolled his suitcase behind him as he left his bedroom, entering into the living room behind Louis.

He found the exact source of Louis’ speechlessness when he came to a halt in the living room as well, and it took him a while to trust his eyes in order to believe what he was seeing.

Both his mother and Gemma were standing in the middle of his living room, his front door wide open.

“Surprise!” Gemma finally yelled, a wide smile on her face.

“I…I thought I was supposed to be coming—“

“We know, and we wanted to surprise you,” his mother said delightedly, clasping her hands together.  “I should get on you for leaving your front door unlocked but I haven’t seen you in so long—just come _over_ here already!”

Harry dropped his bags and went over to hug his mother, allowing himself to be squeezed tightly as she murmured about how much she missed him, right before he moved onto Gemma and listened to her murmurs about how he could’ve kept his place tidier.

“And who is this?” his mother asked once the reunion was over, motioning to Louis who was stood in the same, perfectly still position from when he’d first discovered them.

Gemma leaned into her mother and failed greatly at trying to lower her voice.  “That’s _Louis_ ,” she said suggestively, causing Harry’s cheeks to blush with embarrassment.

“I, um—he’s,” Harry started, wiping his hands down his thighs for good measure.  “He _is_ Louis.  He was supposed to be coming with me back home.”

His mother raised her eyebrows pointedly, a lopsided grin growing on her face as she quickly made her way past Harry and spread her arms wide for Louis.  “That’s _lovely_.  So you’re Louis?” she asked once she pulled back, keeping him at arm’s length.

“Yep,” Louis nodded, and Harry was taken aback at the fact that he actually…seemed a little _nervous_.  Whatever nervousness Harry thought he’d had, however, faded away when Louis said his next few words.  “I’m Harry’s husband.”

Harry’s heartbeat paused in his chest as he wondered what could’ve _possibly_ come over that boy to think it would’ve been okay to even _say_ something along those lines—

“He’s a funny one,” his mother said, chuckling with delight as she patted Louis’ shoulder.  “I love him already!”

Louis cheesed cutely at Harry as his mother continued to laugh, apparently finding Louis so _darn_ funny.  Harry joined in on the laughter too, although his chortles were a bit more hesitant as he observed his mother’s every move.

“We shouldn’t waste this wonderful day away by staying inside,” his mother said, motioning toward Harry’s giant windows.  “How about I take everyone out for frozen yogurt?  You can even call up Zayn and I’ll buy for _everyone_!”

Harry raised his eyebrows at that, already starting to feel the side effects of his mother growing attached to a new person in Harry’s life.  He hoped Louis liked gold watches.

“Sure.  I’ll do just that,” Harry said, already starting to pull out his phone as Gemma gave him a teasing look.

Just as promised, they all ended up sitting outside of a frozen yogurt shoppe with different cups in their hands, Louis being the only one with an actual _cone_ , and it seemed the boy was just eating all of this up—literally.

“What are you studying in school, darling?” his mother asked at some point.

Louis giggled for a moment as he swallowed his mint-flavored dessert.  “Oh, that doesn’t matter.  I’m in a band.”

Harry suddenly felt like it was getting much hotter outside than before—or was he just sweating?  Why did it feel like the temperature was rising _drastically_?

“A _band_ ,” his mother said, and just by her tone of voice, Harry could tell she was judging.  God, why did he even _care_ if she was judging?  It wasn’t like she knew they were closely involved—she probably just thought they were good friends.  Harry needed to calm himself, but he couldn’t.

“Yeah, it’s called The Red Rogue,” Louis replied proudly.

Gemma lifted her spoon in the air.  “Oh, I’ve _heard_ of you guys before! People say you’re really good.”

“Why thank you,” Louis said, his grin growing even larger.

Harry watched his mother’s reaction and hoped she was pleased to find that it wasn’t just some small, nothing band, and that it was actually a worthwhile career choice.

“As long as you’re certain about what you want out of life,” his mother said hesitantly, her eyes wandering.  She averted her own attention by pointing at Harry.  “This one can’t even make up his mind about underwear.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Harry said as the table erupted in gentle laughter.  “TMI mum, don’t ya think?”

Louis continued to guffaw amusedly.  “No, Harry.  Ms. Styles, please tell me more about how Harry can’t make decisions.”

“He made _me_ go to the mall with him so he could choose which particular brand of body lotion to buy Cecile,” his mother said with a laugh, before turning her head right to Harry.  “Speaking of that girl, where _is_ she?”

Harry opened his mouth, although speechless from not having prepared for this conversation at all.  He hadn’t even told his mother that they’d broken up.  He wasn’t prepared for this talk right now, and he needed time to formulate words for _goodness’ sake_.

“Uh, she’s—“ Zayn started, swiftly saying the day,  “doing an internship during the break.  You know her, she’s always busy!”

Harry let out a sigh of relief, hoping his signal of thankfulness was delivered to Zayn across the table.

His mother’s curiosity was successfully diminished as she nodded her head eagerly, already beginning to shift the conversation into more ways she could embarrass Harry in one sitting.  The great part was, she was clearly taking a liking to Louis, laughing at all his jokes and absolutely beaming with adoration every time he spoke.  He should’ve seen it coming anyway, because who _couldn’t_ love Louis, but the fact that Harry got to sit there and witness someone else admire him meant so much.

Soon they were back at Harry’s flat, continuing their conversations with Zayn and Louis doing most of the talking as Harry observed intensely.  He was growing annoyed by how Gemma kept teasing him about it all, especially since he hadn’t even _told_ her of who he and Louis really were to each other.  She’d probably just assumed because of the way he always fumbled his words and blushed when talking about him.

Harry was unprepared for when his mother suddenly started announcing that she had to depart soon.

“Already?” Harry asked, although he might’ve been a _little_ relieved he wouldn’t have to hold his breath anymore.

His mother walked up to him where he was stood by the kitchen counter, placing her palm on his right cheek.  “Yep.  The main reason I came over as quick as possible was because things had gone mad at my métier, and they’re going to need me every day for the next few weeks.  Wanted a chance to spend time with you before I would disappear from home completely.”

Harry made a show of pouting right before his mother pulled him in for a hug.  “It’s okay, though.  Gemma can stay here with you for as long as she wants.  You can still come and visit too, although I won’t be at home as much.”

“I understand,” Harry said with a pat to her back.

“Two flights in one day?” Louis asked, waltzing over as he raised his eyebrows.  “You must be absolutely _exhausted,_ Ms. Styles.”

“Oh, I’m used to this kind of thing,” she said with a smile.   “You’re such a gentleman.  Harry, why didn’t you tell me about this one sooner?”

Harry shook his head wordlessly, twiddling his thumbs over one another.  “No idea.”

The rest of them mingled about in Harry’s flat once Harry’s mother demanded he show her around the place, as if the pictures she’d asked him to send the moment he moved in weren’t enough.  She was her usual critical self, not showing she was too impressed by anything but still appreciating the good things when she needed to.

“This color, Harry?” she asked, holding up a piece of his dark red duvet.  “It completely clashes with the curtains over your windows.”

His curtains were a pale, almost salmon color, and Harry had never given much thought to them, but now that he was taking a closer look, the colors _did_ clash completely.  Maybe he always needed his mother around to do the decision making.

She slid the balcony door open and wandered outside, her hair blowing lightly as she stepped on top of the wood.

“This is nice,” she commented, letting her arms rest on top of the railing.  Her eyes scanned over the flowers set along the edge, a pleased grin forming on her lips.

“Yeah, it was my favorite part about this place,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked up behind his mother, taking the position beside her and watching the view of life down below.

“I bet you probably come out here a lot,” she said, reaching out to run her hands through his curls.

“Yeah I do,” Harry replied with a nod.  “It gives me a peaceful place to think.”

His mother nodded in understanding, focusing her eyes back ahead, and Harry could sense her mind starting to shift someplace else.  Harry took that moment to appreciate her, and the fact that she was there, and that she had practically _rushed_ there in order to get some time with Harry before her job would swallow her whole for the next few weeks.  She cared so much and never failed to show it.

“Heard you found out about your father,” she said, her tone only a tad hostile.

Harry nodded, his eyes concentrated on the potted flowers.  “Yea.  Why didn’t you tell me?”  He already knew the answer, but he was curious to see just how similar it would’ve been to all the others.

“Knew you wouldn’t react well to it,” she said easily, before reaching out and pulling Harry into a side hug.  “If I know anything about you, it’s that you _hate_ change, as well as things that put you out of the center.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, playfully shoving his mother off of him.

She shook her head fondly, her eyes sparkling as she stared at him.  “Well, you _used_ to be that way.  I’ve witnessed you grow a little.  Even from how far away I am.”

Harry smiled crookedly at that, feeling pleased to _finally_ hear someone portraying him as something different from a selfish child.

“It’s like I’m watching you blossom into a wonderful young man, Hazza.”

Harry scoffed dramatically.  “Well, don’t call me _Hazza_.  That defeats the whole purpose!”

She sucked her teeth before pulling him in for another full hug.  “Oh, c’mere.”

They stood like that, in peaceful quietude with each other, hugging as they looked over the city and felt the warm spring air surrounding them.  Harry thought about how standing there was so much different from when he’d first moved in, when he’d been immediately ready to go back home and forget about the entire school year.  Now he wanted to stay, right there in the flat, and he wanted his mother not to worry about him when she was thousands of miles away.  He wanted nothing more than to hear her go on about how he was growing; it was like music to his ears.

“Are you sad about it?” Harry asked suddenly, causing his mother to pull away and look at him questioningly.

“About dad…” Harry added.  “Are you sad?”

She blinked at him for a moment before laughing, shaking her head vigorously. “Your father and I split for a _reason_.”

“I know, but—“

“I understand it’s been a dream of yours for us to get back together and all, but,” she started, moving a curl behind his ear.  “Not all things are meant to be.”

Harry nodded in understanding, although he was dying to let her know that he had found his “meant to be” and that the person was in the same building as them.

His mother twirled her hair obnoxiously as she slipped her next few words in.  “I’m also sort of _seeing_ someone now, so…”

“Get out,” Harry said, leaning in with disbelief.  “You _are_?”

She nodded eagerly, clearly struggling to contain all of her excitement inside.  “Yep.”

Hearing the news that his mother was seeing someone was _way_ different from hearing about it in terms of his dad.  He _wanted_ his mother to meet someone, because she was beautiful, caring, and didn’t deserve to be alone.  The divorce had crushed her far more than it had crushed his dad, which was obvious in the way she’d begun being extremely unpredictable after they’d moved away.  Witnessing the absolutely ecstatic look on her face from talking about her new love interest left Harry feeling more happy for her than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

“That’s _amazing_!” Harry said, reaching out to hug her, not even realizing how much he’d hugged his mum in the last hour.  “I’m so happy for you.”

“Me too,” she replied, grinning at Harry as they both shared a look of admiration.

She sucked in a breath before turning away from the railing of the balcony, moving to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead.  “I guess I better get going.”

Harry sighed as he went over to hold the balcony door open for her nonetheless, even though he was feeling less than eager to say goodbye so soon.  He lead her back to the living room where Gemma, Zayn, and Louis still lingered, laughing about something unknown to Harry and listening to his stereo.

“I’ll see you guys soon, alright?” his mother said as Gemma approached to hug her goodbye.  Zayn came up behind her as well, and Louis seemed unsure of himself until his mother motioned for the boy to come and receive his warm hug.

“As Harry’s husband, I expect you to come visit over the summer,” she joked, giving Louis one last pat on the back as everyone laughed.  She told Zayn to tell his parents that she said hi, and then she was gone, and Harry was left with nothing but the snickers of Zayn and Louis, along with the curious eyes of Gemma.

She placed her hands on her hips as she took large steps around the living room.  “Are we gonna get into the juicy stuff you couldn’t say while mum was here or what?” she asked before crashing onto the couch obnoxiously.

Harry laughed nervously.  “There’s no juicy stuff.”

“Oh, but there is,” Louis said, throwing himself on the couch right next to Gemma as Zayn leaned over the back of it, right next to her head.  “See, you wanna know why Zayn wouldn’t stop talking about _my_ band for the life of him?”

Gemma laughed as she glanced between Louis and Zayn.  “Why?”

“He’s dating the bass guitarist.”

“Not _dating_ ,” Zayn said with a roll of his eyes.  “More like spending my life cherishing, catering to, and loving.”

Gemma’s face scrunched up in response to that as she shook her head.  “Didn’t need to know all that, Zayn.”

“It’s true,” Louis said pointedly.  “I’ve heard that people living near Zayn can hear it from across the hall—“

 _“Okay_ ,” Harry interrupted, coming over to set his hands on Louis’ shoulders.  “Gemma doesn’t need to know that, right Zayn?”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Zayn said with a shrug.  “I’m very open about what I do with my soulmate.”

“ _Soulmate_?” Gemma asked, now sitting up.  “Wait, back this up—rewind it all the way to the _beginning_.  You believe in soulmates?”

“Gemma,” Harry tried.

Zayn blinked at her for a moment, a crooked grin on his face.  “Of course, especially since I know who mine is.”

“Harry,” Gemma laughed, now looking at Harry with bemused eyes, hitting him in the leg.  “That is absolutely _ridiculous_ , isn’t it?”

Harry kept his face completely straight, not even taking notice of how he hadn’t taken his hands off of Louis’ shoulders yet.  “No.  It’s not.”

“But you used to think—“

“Well, I don’t think that anymore,” Harry said calmly.  “I’m pretty sure if you saw Zayn and Niall interact, you’d be the same way.”

A bashful look grew on Zayn’s face as he covered his cheeks with his palms, probably feeling far too flattered by just the thought of him and Niall being cute in public.  Harry let out an exhausted breath at how lovesick that boy was.

“Wait, is that why you broke up with Cecile?” she asked.  She shook her head as she let her hands fall to her sides.   “What is going _on_ around here?”

“ _No_ —I,” he sighed.  “I already told you why I broke up with her.  God, do you ever even listen to me?”

“No, I video chat you for hours on my laptop so I can have something to do while I work on my nails,” she said sarcastically.

Louis lifted one of her hands, observing the perfect coats of fuchsia paint on them as he chuckled.  “Well, your nails _do_ look freshly done, and you just video chatted him a few days ago.”

Gemma laughed for a moment as she took the time to admire her nails as well, before shifting back to the topic at hand.  “That’s not the point though.  The point is—Harry, you were the last person I’d _ever_ expect to believe in the soulmate thing.”

“Oh, I promise you, Zayn and Niall are _that_ disgusting,” Louis commented.

Zayn sucked in a breath as he grew offended.  “As if you and Harry aren’t as _annoying_ and attached at the hip as Niall and I are.”

“We don’t suck each other’s faces every second we get alone,” Harry retorted.

Louis snickered under his breath for a moment before turning around to Harry.  “Well actually, remember when you—“

Harry’s fingers pinching him in the side cut that sentence right off, leaving Louis to gasp before he reached forward and twisted Harry’s nipple through his shirt.  Harry winced as he caressed his chest, feeling thoroughly betrayed about Louis retaliating, although he should’ve expected it.

“What is going _on_?” Gemma asked, mostly to the sky as she threw her head back on the couch.

“Nothing, um,” Louis said, falling right back into casual rhythm.  “Let me tell you about the time our drummer’s drum set caught on fire.”

Just like that, Gemma was offered a distraction as she eagerly held onto Louis’ story, laughing at all the right parts and gasping at others.  Harry watched as they communicated, Louis gesticulating animatedly, and he admired how easily Louis could get comfortable with others.  Gemma already adored him, probably more than she adored Harry, and her eyes shone with interest as she spoke to him, as though already growing to love him like a brother.  It was fitting after all, since Louis was going to be her brother-in-law sometime in the future.

Harry took a moment to blink at himself once he thought about such a thing because.  Did he actually just fucking think that?  Did he think about _marriage_ before they’d even gone out on a date?  He really _was_ just as disgusting as Niall and Zayn, and he hadn’t even known it.

A few hours later, Zayn had already gone back to his apartment, and Gemma was changing into more comfortable clothes in order to prepare for the night.  Louis was somewhere in his closet poking around once Gemma emerged from the bathroom, putting her hair up in a bun.

“So am I taking the right or the left tonight?” she asked, gesturing to the bed.

Harry was situated against his drawer, unable to come up with a proper answer for her question upon immediately thinking about how the right side was Louis’.

“Um…” Harry started, scratching behind his ear for a moment as she awaited his answer.  “Actually…Louis kinda sleeps in my bed.”

The pupils of her eyes grew wide as she stared at him.   Just when her mouth was beginning to fall open, Harry walked over in order to grab her arm and pull her out of his bedroom before she could wail excitedly.

Her face was one of many different expressions as Harry brought her over to sit down on the couch, and she ranged from confused to curious to purely radiant.  The knowing, warning look Harry was giving her to calm down worked a bit as she opened and closed her mouth multiple times, her eyes still huge like tennis balls.

“Are you ready to listen?” Harry asked tiredly, the dimness of his apartment starting to make him a tad bit sleepy.

Gemma was about to answer when Louis came out of his bedroom, scratching at his head exhaustedly as he now wore one of Harry’s t-shirts and his own joggers.  “Honestly Harry, how dare you tell Gemma she can’t sleep on your bed?  I’ll sleep on the couch Gems, bed is yours.”

Gemma’s mouth opened once again as she looked at Louis impressively, then back at Harry, not even attempting at hiding her shock.  It seemed to go right over Louis’ head as he yawned, already moving to reach Harry’s closet where he kept the blankets.

“Stay in his bed, by all _means_ ,” Gemma said, overly empathetic.  “ _I’ll_ sleep on the couch.  I _love_ sleeping on couches.”

Louis paused his steps, turning to look at Gemma questioningly.  “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her lips twitching behind her happy grin.  “I’m totally sure.  You seem far more tired than me, anyway.”

“I am,” Louis laughed, giving Harry one last look before he turned around toward the bedroom, throwing up a peace sign.  “’Night, fellas.”

Harry’s eyes remained focused on where Louis disappeared as Gemma tried not to explode next to him.  Obviously, he couldn’t open his mouth and say that Louis needed Harry in order to go to sleep, because she would’ve completely combusted in response to that.  Instead, he pushed himself up off the couch, muttering a “wait here” before moving toward his bedroom.

He gently closed the door behind himself once he entered, not surprised to find Louis with his eyes wide open as he was buried underneath the duvet.

“Thought I would have to beg you,” Louis mumbled, followed by a tired moan.

Harry shook his head as he crawled on top of the duvet, taking his place in front of Louis so he could pull the boy’s head into his chest.  Although he couldn’t feel the boy’s skin because they were on opposite sides of the duvet, he could feel the warmth radiating from him.  He had to make this quick so Gemma’s thoughts wouldn’t wander too dangerously.

Harry stroked Louis’ hair as the boy closed his eyes, burying his head deeper into Harry’s skin.

“I like your sister,” Louis mumbled tiredly.

Harry continued to card his fingers tenderly.  “I do too.  Sometimes.”

They were quiet for a long while as Harry sensed the boy slowly fade away into a deep sleep, but it was crushed once he heard Louis mutter his words again.  “You’re unsure about the future.”

One of Harry’s eyebrows quirked up at that sentence, but he continued to cradle Louis’ head nonetheless.  It was clearly a statement, mumbled sleepily from Louis’ heavy mouth, but it was true regardless.  “I am.”

“Me too,” Louis replied as he yawned.

Harry didn’t offer a response as he held Louis, trying his best to calm him enough so as not to deter his process of falling asleep.  It didn’t work, obviously, because the boy started to sniffle just a bit and grab onto Harry through the duvet, only to find that he couldn’t reach him due to them being on different sides.

“Get under here with me,” Louis plead.

“I can’t,” Harry replied.  “If I do, I’ll fall asleep, and I have to tell Gemma something important.”

“What if I…” Louis started, his voice starting to bear a bit of panic.  Harry already knew where this was headed, because he was used to Louis getting like this when he was tired beyond belief.  “What if we don’t make it, Harry?  What if the whole thing with the band goes nowhere?”

Harry shushed him gently before pressing a kiss to his hair.  “Don’t say things like that.  It’s already gone somewhere, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but—“

“ _Shh_ ,” Harry said, smoothing his hand down the back of Louis’ hair as the stressed creases by Louis’ closed eyes started to fade.  “Your music means so much to everyone.  It means so much to _me_.”

Louis calmed down a bit, his breaths going heavy as he stopped scrambling for Harry’s touch.  “Thank you…” he replied, his voice as soft as a feather.

Harry waited until the boy was silent and breathing steadily for five minutes before he was sure he was in the clear.  He slowly detached himself from Louis, sliding out of the bed and walking over to his bedroom door with light feet.

Gemma was sat in the living room, her hands clasped in her lap as she seemed to be thinking.  She appeared to be much less frazzled than she was before, which was exactly what Harry had wanted.

“I see you’ve finally calmed down,” Harry commented as he sat down next to her once again.

Gemma nodded slowly, quirking an eyebrow up at Harry.  “How couldn’t I?  I mean, you spent a good twenty minutes in there doing— _whatever_ it was you were doing with Louis.  What were you two doing?  What _are_ you two?”

Just like that, the excitement was starting to grow from within her all over again, and Harry had to set a gentle hand on her knee to bring her back to a calm state.

“Don’t say any goofy things, or make innuendos,” Harry said, his face only slightly twisted in disgust.  “Just…be completely serious with me right now.  Be real.”

Gemma nodded seriously as she kept her eyes glued to Harry’s, which were now downcast.

“I—um,” he started, taking a second to swallow.  “Louis, he’s…” he started again, this time stretching out the collar of his t-shirt in order to get some air.  “He’s kinda…my soulmate, and I, uh…I love him.”

The living room was dead silent as Gemma blinked at him, her facial expression indecipherable, as opposed to just a few minutes before.

Harry couldn’t think of anything better to do than continue, especially since he quickly realized it was his first time saying these things out loud, and it felt _amazing._

“I love him, I’m in love with him, he’s my soulmate, and I’m in love with him,” Harry continued, counting things off on his fingers as a tiny grin poked at his lips.  He rested his cheek on his fist in order to stifle it, not wanting to get _too_ soft in front of Gemma.

“This is…” she started, taking a deep breath.  “New.”

Harry didn’t need her to elaborate, because he was well aware of how it was “new”.  However, he still asked her to anyway.  “How?”

“Well,” Gemma said.  “I didn’t even know you were _into_ boys that way, you’ve _never_ believed in soulmates for as long as I’ve known you, and I’ve definitely never heard you say you _loved_ somebody.  Gross.”

“I _said_ don’t say goofy things,” Harry scolded, before immediately becoming small and insecure as his eyes turned pleading.  “Do you like him?”

“Yes, he’s _hilarious_ ,” Gemma replied.  “I probably would’ve embarrassed you a little more if I’d known he was your boyfriend.”

Harry quickly shook his head, pressing his lips together awkwardly.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Gemma’s mouth lingered open for a moment as she stared at Harry, seemingly lost.

“That’s the other thing,” Harry continued.  “I’m in love with him, but um…I don’t think he feels that way about me?  He doesn’t even know we have the same tattoo.  It’s like he doesn’t…”—he gestured vaguely with his hands—“feel it.”

Gemma raised a finger in the air, sitting up a little as she brought her voice to a sharp, hushed volume.  “That boy has the rose with a knife running through it at the top of his back?”

Harry nodded.  “Yep.  I’ve double checked it and everything.”

“That’s _wild_ ,” she said, shaking her head as she slumped back into the couch.  “I guess it _is_ real.  I need to start looking for mine.”

“Gemma, this isn’t about you.  It’s about me,” Harry cut in, raising up his hand.

Gemma fixed her hair as she sat back up.  “Right, right.  So he’s your non-boyfriend, who spends all his time with you and sleeps in your bed every day?”

“That’s exactly right,” Harry replied, only wincing slightly at how painful it sounded.

It seemed that Gemma could sense his agony as her eyes softened and she reached out to smooth her hand down Harry’s shoulder.  “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Haz.  I’m sure he’ll come around soon if he’s actually your _soulmate_.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said with a bitter laugh.  “I’ve known him for months now and he still hasn’t realized a thing.”

“Well, that’s…” Gemma started, seemingly not knowing what to say.   “You just have to wait, I guess.  Just because you’ve met, doesn’t mean you’re destined to fall in love yet.”

Harry winced even more at the thought of waiting, because he’d already felt he’d been waiting almost a _century_ for this.  The thought of even another year going by where Louis didn’t return the feelings Harry had for him was torture on his soul.

“No matter what happens, just know I’m proud of you,” Gemma said.  “You’re becoming this new, awesome person…you’re branching out and involving yourself with your surroundings.  Seriously, you’re cool with The fucking Red Rogue!  _My_ brother!”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbled, only smiling a tad.

“That’s what growing up is about,” Gemma said softly.  “Finding yourself and becoming comfortable with who you are.  Don’t worry.  You still have so much time to figure things out.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I don’t,” Harry replied.  “Both with Louis, _and_ with uni.  I feel like Louis refuses to be pinned down.  He’s more invested in this band than he’ll ever be with me, and I can literally feel the band taking off.”

“I’m telling you,” Gemma started.  “I’m pretty sure soulmates find a way.”

“And with uni, I feel like the fucking semesters are moving faster than me,” Harry continued.  “I haven’t figured out what I want to do, and I don’t think I will anytime soon.”

Gemma pursed her lips for a moment, taking time to dwell on what Harry had said.  “Well, another year going undecided wouldn’t kill you—“

“But I don’t even deserve to be here, Gem,” Harry admitted, playing with his fingernails.  “I don’t.  It’s not fair that I’m here.”

“How could you say that?” Gemma asked.

“Because,” Harry continued.  “I didn’t earn it.  I got a handout, the same way I’ve always gotten handouts from different people my parents have known since I was a child.  It’s not fair to the other students that have worked hard to get into the school.”

Gemma was quiet as she nodded her head slowly, taking in all that he was saying and hopefully understanding.

“I…I think I wanna take a year off,” Harry nearly whispered, the words terrifying him once they were out in the air.  “A year away from college, so I can take some time to figure things out, and…learn to live life my own way, without my dad making any advances for me.”

Gemma was quiet for a bit longer, and he already knew what she was thinking.  Something like this was completely unheard of in their family, so Harry wasn’t expecting for her to take it easily, although it would’ve helped.

She finally reached out and took Harry’s hand, stroking it softly as a small grin formed on her lips.  “If that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

Harry grinned in response, feeling at ease from having spilled his guts out without being judged harshly by his sister.  “Promise?”

“Promise.”

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

After Gemma left, most of Harry’s break had been spent curling up with Louis on his bed or couch and watching television—that was, until Louis up and decided to go home without even a thought as to whether or not Harry wanted to come.  Sure, Harry had bought an entire plane ticket for the boy and gotten ready to travel across the god damn _ocean_ for the boy to meet his mother, but heaven forbid Louis ask Harry if he wanted to come with him to meet his.  It was whatever, though.  It was fine, and Harry was going to be okay with living this way for the rest of his life.

He found himself alone on the last Saturday of the break, dreading the start of classes on Monday as he sunk himself into the couch.  It was nearly one a.m., and he was watching the weird cartoons being shown on T.V. as he dwelled on how Louis hadn’t texted him back in two hours.  It _was_ spring break, and Louis _was_ quite the party animal, so the fact that it was smack in the middle of the night when Louis stopped texting him back was sort of telling.  He hoped Louis was having fun, doing whatever he was doing in his hometown.  He hoped it was all worth it, spending one, worthless night grinding against some random guy and causing his best friend to become heartbroken.

Harry figured he was going to have to get used to it, because this was his life right now.   Louis was out _partying_ it up with some hot guy, while Harry was moping on the couch, suffering through all of the—

His thoughts were cut off by his front door opening, the first thing entering through it being the vicious pop of some confetti canon.  Harry blinked his eyes numerous times as he sat up, watching as all four boys waltzed into his flat, jumping around and cheering as confetti canons continued to be popped around him and a whistle was blown repeatedly by Niall.

“What?” Harry asked confusedly as he scratched his side, confetti falling all around him.

He was confused, not only because The Red Rogue had just walked into his flat and started a spontaneous party, but also because he didn’t even know Louis was _back_ , and here he was, dancing around in his apartment as he stood on top of the kitchen table.  Olivia and Zayn were also there, celebrating just as eagerly as all of the boys in the band were and heightening Harry’s bewilderment even more.

“What is going _on_?” Harry asked desperately as he stood up, his voice hardly loud enough over his stereo that Marcus had turned on.  “Moves Like Jagger” was now blaring through the speakers as the radio played, and Harry was growing fed up as the boys continued to dance and party around him.

“What’s going _on_ is,” Liam started, coming over and swinging an arm around Harry.  He practically yelled in his ear with excitement as he said his next words.  “We’re going on the _road_!”

It took a moment for Harry to register what Liam was saying as a piece of confetti fell upon his nose and Niall blew his whistle once again.  His eyes widened as he turned to Liam, his mouth agape.  “On the road?  As in, on _tour_?”

Liam nodded proudly.  “Yep!”  He took Harry in his arms and swung him around in some sloppy ballroom dance type thing, Harry’s eyebrows still knit in confusion because he hadn’t grasped what was going on.

“Wait,” Harry said.  “How did this even _happen_?”

Louis swiftly hopped down from his kitchen table and skipped over to the stereo in order to turn it off.  “We were performing at this beach bash that _hundreds_ of people attended—“

“Some TV stations were there, you know,” Marcus continued.  “Broadcasting spring break and all that.”

“You remember that guy?  From that one gig we had?” Niall asked.  “He _finally_ got back to us after seeing footage of us performing.”

“And he’s arranging for us to open for this up-and-coming band on tour!” Liam finished, opening his arms wide as a smile spread across his face.  “Isn’t that _amazing_?”

Harry finally started to smile along with the rest of them as he came to understand all that was going on.  He felt pure gratification bubble inside of him at the knowledge that they were finally taking off, headed exactly where they needed to be.  Harry couldn’t have been happier for this band, grateful for the fact that Marcus and Liam had bombarded him on the first day of school, that Louis had taken his breath away onstage that day, and that Niall had made it his duty to welcome Harry as their friend from day one.  Harry fucking loved this band, and he was so glad he was going to get to watch them succeed.

“It _is_ amazing,” Harry replied, eyes glistening as Marcus turned back on the music.  He didn’t even budge when confetti popped again and threatened to make him deaf, or when Niall blew the whistle right in his face.

“Although _I’ve_ never heard of them,” Louis started, coming right up behind Harry as he put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.  “The band is pretty big, apparently.”

Harry couldn’t help but spin right around and hug Louis so tight his feet lifted off the ground.  Louis squeezed him firmly as well, his smiles pressed into Harry’s shoulder as Harry kept telling the boy how proud he was of him.  He knew that no matter how many times he said it, it wouldn’t suffice, because Louis was just simply out of this world.  He was amazing all on his own, because he already _had_ those songs in his notebook before they came to life, already possessed his own way of turning emotions into creativity, and that was what made him exceptionally special in Harry’s eyes.  He would never be able to express enough how proud he was for him.

“We’re opening for them from June through October, and who knows, maybe we’ll get more opportunities once people start to like us,” Louis explained once Harry put him down, his smile practically glued to his face.

Harry couldn’t stop himself from picking the boy right back up, Louis laughing freely as he allowed himself to be spun around.  “I _knew_ you could do it.”

Louis’ features softened as he stared at Harry, his smile still as wide as ever, although it became more heartfelt rather than excited.  “Thank you for believing in me, Harry.”

Harry tried to contain his overbearing _joy_ for Louis, but he knew it was no use.  He lost control as he reached out and grabbed the boy’s hand, quickly leading him into his bedroom.  Once they entered, Louis didn’t question him as Harry began searching around his dresser, opening closets, and rummaging through belongings.  Instead, Louis just got on top of Harry’s bed and started jumping to the beat of the song that was playing through the stereo.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked breathily, continuing his act of hopping.

“I have to—“ Harry started, opening one of his drawers and closing it with a  grunt.  “You’re going on _tour_ , so I have to give you something.”

Louis’ jumps slowed down as he blinked at Harry.  “You don’t have to give me anything.”

“Yes, I do,” Harry said, continuing to poke through the items on top of his drawer.  “So you’ll feel me with you, and stuff.  It’ll be like a ‘congrats’ gift.”

Louis sank down to the duvet, beginning to giggle as he stared.  “So I can _feel_ you with me?”

Harry’s movements came to pause as he turned to look at Louis, now realizing how odd and _overly_ attached that sounded.  It was just that, it was always a tradition in his family to give one another a heartfelt object to carry around so that they could feel each other’s love from wherever they were.  It was the diamond ring from his mother, one of the flowers on his balcony from his sister, and the whole entire apartment from his father.  It was something that partially worked, and now Harry was desperate to do it for Louis.

Louis patted the space in front of him.  “C’mere, Harold.”

Harry did as told, although taking slow steps because of the fact that he didn’t know what exactly to expect.  He sat on the bed in front of Louis, immediately feeling serene once the boy took both of Harry’s hands in each of his own.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Louis said, his voice gentle.  “I don’t want a fancy watch, or a diamond encrusted wallet—none of that.  You’ve already given me enough.”

Harry’s stomach did unimaginable things as Louis stared at him with intense adoration and heart filled eyes.  The churning of his stomach didn’t simmer down once the boy continued.

“You _believed_ in me,” Louis said.  “None of this would’ve happened without you, strolling into my dorm room like some idiot and forcing me to show you my songs.”

Harry nodded through a permanent smile, inching into Louis.  “Yeah.  I remember that.”

“And now here we are,” Louis added, glancing down at their hands for a moment.

“Here we are,” Harry said.  “And you’re accomplishing so much.  You’re amazing.”

Louis actually _blushed_ —full on blushed—as he looked down and away, chuckling hesitantly at Harry’s words.  “Sure, whatever Harry.”  When his eyes were done wandering bashfully, they were met with Harry’s certain ones again, not daring to tear away from Louis anytime soon.  Louis’ eyes blinked for a moment, seemingly getting lost in Harry’s gaze as Harry literally looked nowhere else.  If he was too scared to say how he felt, he was going to communicate through every look he gave the boy, the way he touched him, the way he held him close at night.

Harry was certain he was going to say it then and there, right before Louis inched in, just enough for their foreheads to press together.  He sort of nestled himself in for a moment, both of their eyes closed as he took the time to tilt his head.  It seemed as though he was contemplating something, that exact _something_ being that he was confused on whether or not this was a good time to kiss—whether it was the same, casual thing, or if this was bordering on sentimental.

Harry closed the space anyway, because he couldn’t control himself with Louis so close to his mouth like that.  Louis quickly kissed him back, their hands still gripping onto each other’s as their lips began to fold over one another.

Harry pulled Louis in closer by the back of his neck, yearning for more of the boy as Louis bit down on Harry’s bottom lip.  Harry hissed before moving in closer to deepen the kiss, Louis’ tongue lightly massaged against his as he pulled at Harry’s shirt, struggling to bring the boy in closer to him.  Harry was desperate to press every ounce of love he had for this boy into his lips, crossing his fingers and praying the message got through.

Harry hadn’t even realized how close they’d gotten until one of Louis’ legs was swung around his waist, locking him in close as their lips continued to move vigorously over one another, as though there wasn’t a celebration going on right outside of the room.

Louis’ lips parted from Harry’s, and he moved to Harry’s jaw, his kisses going all the way to his earlobe as Harry remained under his spell.  Harry eventually turned his head in order for their foreheads to meet again, their noses touching each other lightly as Louis cradled his neck.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Harry whispered, his eyes still closed as he proceeded to swallow.

At this, Harry felt the absence of Louis’ breath on his lips, and opened his eyes to find Louis staring at him wordlessly, eyes blank and almost empty.  Harry’s eyes searched his for a moment, trying to figure out what the deal was—what was the _fucking_ deal now, that had caused the boy to look so neutral and undecipherable?  _Why_?

Louis let his hands slip down from Harry’s face and into his lap as he unwound his leg from Harry’s waist.  “Excuse me,” was all he said, before letting himself slide down from Harry’s bed and seeing himself out of the room.

Fucking _excuse_ _me_.

The slap of Harry’s hand against his forehead was loud as he groaned, wishing he’d never said anything.  Now he’d gone and scared Louis off with his creepy longing, and Louis probably knew all about it and was planning his escape from the country for the next day.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry breathed, palm still pressed against his forehead.  He let his body fall forward on the bed until he hit the duvet face first, letting out a long, pained groan in defeat.

He lay there, burying his moans of despair into the sheets for quite a while, and so much time passed that he was beginning to believe all the boys had forgotten about his entire existence.

He was brought away from his current state of self loathing and regret when he sensed someone approaching his door.

“They want you to join for a picture,” he heard Olivia’s voice say from his doorframe.  “They said they want to remember the night their dreams came true.”

Harry turned his head out of the duvet and in the direction of his door, finding Olivia smiling, a camera held between her two hands.  He let out another choked moan before shifting so his face was buried in the bed once again.

 

~*~

 

Louis was acting weird.

He couldn’t say this was unexpected, but still.  Louis was acting weird, and he wasn’t sleeping over at Harry’s place every single day anymore.  Maybe it was a bit pushy, Harry worrying about the boy taking one or two nights away from him, but it was _still_ different from normal, and as noticeable to Harry as a blaring police siren.  He _knew_ that Louis was aware of this, because the boy couldn’t even fall asleep anymore unless Harry was there to stroke his hair and hold him close.  Louis knew he needed Harry for that, yet he still took nights away from Harry’s flat, which meant he had an _extremely_ good reason for doing so.

Harry fucked up real bad.  He was pretty certain he’d fucked things up to a point of no return, all because he’d pushed the envelope and told Louis he couldn’t get enough of him after sharing a simple kiss.  It was truly pathetic, how his mouth worked on its own and he completely lost control of himself when the love he had got the best of him.  Now, his foolery was starting to backfire.

Louis wasn’t texting him as much, which was okay, except that the main part of the day Harry always looked forward to besides physically seeing Louis was reading his texts.

Eventually, Louis took many nights in a row away from Harry’s flat, and it killed Harry inside, the fact that he didn’t even know where Louis was on nights like these.  He could’ve been in his dorm, or someone else’s dorm, or some shady old man’s apartment while under the influence, and the thought absolutely _terrified_ Harry, especially since he couldn’t do anything about it.

 

~*~

 

Harry was sitting in the student lobby for no reason other than the fact that the place had good phone reception, thank you very much.  He was _not_ there on the off chance that Louis would’ve been forced to see him—no _way_.

He sat on one of the couches as he scrolled through his phone, glancing up every fifteen seconds to see if Louis was around.  After a while, when he’d finally given up and chosen to direct all his attention to his phone, that was when Louis showed up.

He sat on the small couch across from Harry’s, wearing a large jersey and some black jeans.  Harry’s eyes blinked wearily at him for a moment, unsure of whether he was supposed to say anything or not.

“Hey,” he finally said, since Louis was just sitting there staring.

Louis leaned forward in his seat, setting his elbows on his knees.  “Are you going to that party this weekend?”

Harry shifted his attention back to his phone out of being unable to look Louis in the eye anymore.  “Sure, yeah, whatever.”

He hadn’t actually been planning on going until now.  In fact, he didn’t even know what party Louis was talking about, and now had to actively seek out Zayn for info.

Louis didn’t say another word before letting himself up, Harry’s eyes immediately tearing away from his screen to follow his every move.  Louis didn’t look back as he turned the corner into the hallways, his body disappearing behind the wall.

He had waited almost four hours…for _that_.

Fast forward to that exact weekend, and Harry found himself in the middle of some person’s ground level apartment, the place extremely stuffy and probably well over the capacity of how many people it was allowed to hold.

Harry didn’t dwell on the fact that he’d been torturing himself at this party for two hours now, and hadn’t even seen Louis once.  He’d seen every member of the band at least three times, but Louis was nowhere to be found.  He wasn’t actively searching for him, however—didn’t even ask any of the boys if he’d came.  He just minded his own business as he maneuvered the apartment in search of nothing in particular.

It _was_ a rather big apartment, although not as big as Harry’s, but it still managed to be overcrowded as Harry did his best to push through loads of dancing people and get as far away from the booming speakers as he could.  The party was so big that it even flooded to the outside of the apartment, and Harry could see from inside that there was a grill set up next to the front door as people continued to enjoy themselves wherever they could.

Harry let out a sigh at some point, because he had no idea it would come to this.  He had no idea that he would ever find himself going to a wild party at his own _will_ , just for the slim possibility of seeing a certain person.  He now had no one to turn to, because Liam was somewhere fucking off with his girlfriend, and Marcus, Niall, and Zayn were on the back porch along with many other people, so succumbed to influences that all they did was giggle when Harry would try and say anything to them.

He made a good pastime of engaging with girls that were eager to talk to him, although he gave mostly empty, disinterested responses.  He had secured quite the tiny crowd of talkers when he finally spotted Louis, somewhere in the distance and by the speakers, attached to some guy.  Harry wasn’t surprised, or shocked, or bewildered— nothing of the sort.  Regardless, the sight still hit him like an icy brick, rattling the insides of his head and bringing him immense amounts of pain.  He was grateful that people kept moving in between them, so that he wouldn’t get a clear view of whatever was going on between the two of them.  Harry knew that all he had to do was control himself, and he’d be alright.  He was going to fall into conversation with all these wonderful girls and forget about whatever was taking place on the other side of the apartment.  It didn’t concern him, because Louis wasn’t his, and he wasn’t Louis’.  He couldn’t force the boy into something he didn’t want.

He successfully managed to fully turn his body away from the spectacle as he continued to speak to people, only a little distracted, but trying his best not to let it show.  This lasted a record amount of time, causing Harry to feel good about himself for actually succeeding in practicing self control.

Well, that was until Louis stepped right in front of him.

His eyes were slightly red as he pushed through the girls surrounding Harry and grabbed his arm gently.  “Harry, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Harry’s permission obviously didn’t matter as Louis dragged him throughout the party, Harry’s feet nearly tripping over each other as Louis took him all the way to the corner where there was a table set up with snacks and spiked drinks.

Harry awaited whatever he was about to say as he stood there, barely being able to bring himself to look into the boy’s eyes.  As his head was downcast, he now noticed the opened bottle of liquor in Louis’ hand, and he tried not to alarm himself at how much of the bottle was empty.  Maybe Louis had shared it with someone.  Hopefully.

The music was still loud from where they stood, but it was significantly less overbearing than when Harry was situated at any other area in the house.

“Why are you acting like such a douche?” Louis asked blatantly, crossing his arms.

Harry’s lips parted as he rested his knuckles against the table, not at all prepared for Louis to bombard him like that.  “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about _you_ ,” Louis said sharply.

Harry raised his eyebrows momentarily as he shook his head, before pointing a finger at Louis.  “ _You’re_ the one that’s acting like a douche, if you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s not true,” Louis replied, his eyes growing angrier by the second.  It seemed as though he was either about to explode into a ball of fire or cry.  “I thought you were _happy_ for me.”

Harry sucked in a breath as he made pleading eyes at Louis, before taking a second to regain his composure.  “I—I _am_ happy for you—“

“No you’re _not_!” Louis yelled, so loud his face went red.  He attracted the attention of about three or four people standing nearby, but not too many had heard him.  Louis stepped forward as he continued to yell, Harry only taking a single step back.  “You’re _not_ happy for me, because you’ve been acting all distant and douchebag-ey ever since that day!”  His words were definitely running together like crazy, only understandable to Harry’s trained ears.

Harry stood silent, bearing no idea of what to say or how to handle the fact that Louis was attacking him whilst being a drunken mess.

“Who cares about _me_ , right?” Louis continued, grabbing a shot glass from the stack that was set at the edge of the table.  “You never wanted to see me do well.  You turn on me the second you find out I’m succeeding.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Harry snapped as Louis clumsily poured some of the bottle into the shot glass.  “And aren’t you not supposed to be drinking?  Or have you been out somewhere hiding from everyone so you wouldn’t get caught?”

Louis downed the shot in one go, giving Harry a pointed look as he swallowed.  “The boys don’t control me, and neither do you.  You can _stop_ acting like you fucking care.”

“I _do_ care,” Harry said desperately, already moving to reach for the bottle in Louis’ hand.  “How could you say that?”

“No, you don’t,” Louis slurred, smacking Harry’s hand away viciously.  “And I don’t need you to, Harry.  I don’t fucking _need_ you.  Stop hovering over me!”

A pain was starting to grow in Harry’s chest as he gave up on trying to take the bottle away from Louis, and he was starting to waste away under the pressure of a few more eyes on them, eagerly watching everything go down.

 _Stop hovering over me_ , well that would’ve been just about the easiest thing to do in the world, except Harry fucking _couldn’t_.  His protective nature over Louis was something he couldn’t control, something that was going to ruin things between them for good, so didn’t Louis think that if Harry could stop, he fucking _would_?

“Fine!” Harry yelled, his voice a hint weak as he flailed his arms out.  “I don’t _care_!  Drink all you want!  Black yourself out!  I don’t _fucking_ care, and I never will again.”

Louis’ eyes widened for a moment as his gaze lingered on Harry, and when he spoke up again, his voice was less deafening than before.  “I don’t care either. In fact, I never cared.”

Harry could admit—Louis’ words hurt a bit, especially since he was drunk and it was a well-known fact that most told the truth when they were drunk.  Harry wanted to throw something (preferably the entire table sitting next to them) straight at the wall and watch it break to pieces.  He wanted to be destructive and destroy something in the way Louis had been destroying every piece of his insides lately.

“Just—just go find someone to grind on,” Harry spat, already shoving his way past Louis.

He heard Louis laughing bitterly from behind him, his cackles loud and evil.  “Maybe I will, Harry.  Maybe I _fucking_ will!”

There was silence from the boy as Harry continued to walk away, making his steps slow, however, just in case Louis was planning on taking back all that he had said any time soon.  He received the complete opposite however, when Louis yelled at the top of his lungs once again.

“I _hate_ you, Harry!  I literally _hate_ you!”

Harry didn’t hesitate to turn around, cupping his hands around his mouth just to make sure Louis would hear this one.  “And I _hate_ you too!”

He didn’t even wait for Louis to say anything else before stalking toward the back porch in order to get a moment to contain himself and stifle the tears that were threatening to escape out of his eyes.  He sat down in the chair next to Marcus, who was doubled over in laughter, and just stared straight ahead as he swallowed and willed himself not to cry.  He was _not_ going to cry, nor was he going to run home like he always did.  He refused to believe Louis had that kind of power over him.

He slowly closed his eyes as he sunk into the plastic chair, letting the sounds of people laughing and conversing around him fade into gentle murmurs.  _This_ was what Louis did to him—he had Harry _meditating_ in order to keep himself from reacting wildly to the argument they’d just had. Harry knew he probably shouldn’t have taken anything Louis said seriously, but that was hard to do when he’d literally witnessed the words come straight out of Louis’ mouth.  His voice was filled with so much hurt, so much pain, that Harry would’ve been oblivious _not_ to believe them.  Surely, Louis knew that Harry cared about him, didn’t he?  _Louis_ was the one who had been slowly extracting himself from Harry recently—not the other way around.  Harry didn’t reach out to him on nights he didn’t show up, nor did he ever check on him, out of fear that Louis would find him overbearing.

How could Harry have been “hovering over him” whilst at the same time not caring about him, like Louis claimed?  Which one _was_ it?”

Harry swallowed shakily as he remained in the seat, gripping the armrest as he willed his thoughts to calm down.

Had this been the reason that Louis asked him if he was attending the party?   What if he had been planning this for quite some time now—planning the perfect night to get drunk and tell Harry to leave him the fuck alone?

He sat there with intentions to calm himself for a while, having no idea how much time had passed until he looked at his surroundings and noticed that Marcus, Niall, and Zayn weren’t even sat near him anymore.  People still littered the porch however, so the party was long from over, but this brought him to realize a significant amount of time had gone by.

The steadied breathing, the closed eyes, the sitting still—none of it worked.  Harry was still just as riled up as he was when he’d left Louis standing there after yelling that he hated him back.  God, did Louis really believe him when he said that?  Harry didn’t, and never _would_ , hate him, and now he felt great amounts of guilt for even saying such a thing.

He didn’t know whether to go out and seek the boy or to just stay put.  He was so fucking _torn_ on whether to act upon his intuition, which was telling him that he needed to keep an eye on Louis for the rest of the night, or to just listen to the boy and leave him be.

He didn’t get much time to dwell on whether to do or not do, however, when he heard the piercing sound of a glass shattering from inside the apartment, followed by Louis’ scream of absolute _terror_.

Harry was up from his seat in a split second, pushing through bodies as he made his way toward the inside of the flat, eyes already darting at high speed in order to find his boy.  It only took a few seconds of searching for Harry to find him in the living room, a broken bottle in his hand as he cried and aggressively shoved people away that tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Get _off_ of me!” Louis wailed, the words choked and strained.

“Calm down, Louis,” one guy said, reaching out to touch Louis’ wrist, which resulted in him getting another violent push.  “I’m trying to help you.  There’s _blood_ on your hand.”

These words were enough to snap Harry out of his state of watching from afar, as he immediately moved his feet at lightning speed in order to reach Louis.  The music was still blasting, and people were dancing as if nothing was happening on the other side of the house, although Harry could see it as clear as a day.  He could hear the boy’s voice so clearly above the music, as though his ears were trained to lower the volume of everything else.

“Stop _touching_ me!” Louis screamed.  “I’m tired of people trying to touch me!”

He continued to mumble and slur words together about people touching him, his tone of voice more distressed than Harry had ever heard it.  When Harry had finally reached him and already had his arms open, ready to scoop Louis up and away like the boy’s own personal superhero, he was displeased to find that someone had already beat him to it.

Louis wasn’t screaming about people touching him anymore as Eli emerged, seemingly from out of fucking _nowhere_ as he slowly eased the broken bottle out of Louis’ hand.  Harry didn’t let this deter him however, and he took the last few determined steps toward Louis before grabbing the boy’s hand.

“Don’t _touch_ me!” Louis yelled again, except this time it was aimed at Harry as the boy shoved him away.

Harry searched the boy’s eyes with concern as Louis backed away from him.  “Louis, I—“

“Get away from me,” Louis warned, beginning to move away from Harry again and almost falling on his ass before Harry caught him at just the right moment.

“I’m trying to fucking _help you!_ ” Harry shouted once Louis pushed him away again and turned right around to where Eli was waiting patiently for him.

Eli stared at Harry for a moment as Louis lazily fell into his arms, although his eyes weren’t as condescending and taunting as usual.  He seemed genuinely apologetic as Louis clawed at him, skinny traces of blood dripping from his hands as he grasped onto Eli and continued to cry.

Eli gave Harry one more solemn look as he dragged Louis out of the room, Harry standing there completely speechless and lost on how he was supposed to help someone who didn’t want his help.

He wanted to punch Eli in the face.  He wanted to walk right up and set his fists in order to punch him with all he had, even though he knew deep in his heart that there would’ve been no rationale for such a thing.  It wasn’t _his_ fault Louis had clung onto him, or that he turned Harry away in favor of him, when Harry had been the one who was always there for Louis through everything.  When Harry was the one person in the world who would climb mountains and swim through seas if it meant saving Louis’ life.  It wasn’t _Eli’s_ fault that Louis didn’t acknowledge the ways in which Harry would sacrifice himself for him.  Regardless, Harry was still angry, and he wanted to let his anger out on something as soon as possible.

Harry had been standing in the same place for a while once Louis had been dragged out of the party, just going over in his head all the steps he’d taken to fuck up the relationship between them _this_ badly.  His intuitive nature over Louis got the best of him, and eventually caused him to turn on his heel and stalk right toward the entrance of the party, outside where people still lingered, and Louis was stood at a quiet corner of the hallway between residences with Eli.  Louis seemed to be sobbing as Eli stroked away his tears, and it was apparent that nothing dangerous was going on, but Harry still stomped toward them nonetheless.

“Hey,” Harry hissed, holding up a finger toward Eli when he turned around.  “Don’t you _dare_ try anything with him while he’s drunk.”

Eli stared at Harry for a few seconds, before rolling his eyes and keeping Louis upright as he swung the boy’s arm around his shoulders.  “I’m not an idiot, and I actually care about him.”

“I wanna take a nap,” Louis mumbled, burying his words in the shoulder of Eli’s shirt as the boy dragged him along, making their way past Harry.

“You can take a nap in my car.  It’s alright,” Eli assured him, both of them seemingly ignoring Harry’s existence as they strolled past.  Harry’s eyes followed them as he turned around, his lips slightly parted in disbelief.

“Thank you,” he heard Louis mumble.  “It’s not like Harry cares about me anyway.”

Louis didn’t even _need_ to add that part to his sentence.  It didn’t even make sense, nor did it relate to anything that anybody was saying.  Louis still felt the need to say it and hurt Harry’s feelings however, so now Harry was going to respond.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Harry asked, his voice quiet yet so sharp that it caused Louis to pause in his tracks, still holding onto Eli for support as he blinked at Harry through drunk-hazed eyes.

“I _do_ care about you, and that’s why I didn't want you to drink so much,” Harry continued, his words full of emotion as his eyes started to water.  “That’s why I’ve been worried every night you haven’t spent with me, because I’m wondering if you’re even getting a peaceful sleep.  That’s why I’ve encouraged you and your band from the very _fucking_ beginning, because I saw the potential in you and wanted nothing more than to see you do well in the future—more than I even cared about my _own_!  That’s why I ask Niall about you every _fucking_ day that I don’t see you, just to make sure you’re alive, because that’s how much I panic when you’re not around!”

“Then why did you give up on me?” Louis snapped, breaking away from Eli and stumbling over his feet a little before he caught himself.  “You claimed you cared, and then you fucking _gave up on me_ , Harry Styles!”

“No, I _didn’t_!” Harry screamed, his voice now at a dramatic level equivalent to Louis’.  “I always try to, because I know it would be better for me, but I fucking _can’t_ , Louis!  If you ever paid _attention_ to all the times I’d claimed to have given up on you, you’d find me right around the corner, because I know that no matter how hard I try, I can _never_ fully let you go.”

Louis was quiet now, his eyes wet and his mouth opened, leaving Harry unsure of whether he was about to say anything.  Louis wiped his eyes with his hand that was now wrapped in tissue paper, so Harry took that as his cue to continue.

His voice was desperate as he struggled to convey all the pain he’d felt into just a few words.  He didn’t care that people were watching, or that he was probably crying as he shouted like a madman out in public for everyone to hear.  “I haven’t quit on you, and I never _will_! God, can’t you see, Louis?  I’m fucking—I’m _obsessed_ with you!”  His words got caught in his throat as he continued, but he tried his best to stay strong.  “I can’t stay away, and it hurts that you still haven’t figured that out.  That it all goes right over your annoying little head.”

He ran out of things to say, either because he realized he was slowly starting to expose himself, or because he genuinely didn’t know how else to elaborate.  Eli and Louis’ eyes remained on him, both unreadable through Harry’s blurry, wet vision.  It seemed as though everything was quiet—dead silent, even—mocking Harry’s emotions and providing him with nothing in return for pouring his heart out, just like always.

A tear dripped off of his chin and down onto the pavement beneath as he put his hands down to his sides in defeat.  “And…I know I’m pathetic, because I’m saying all of this to you while you’re drunk.”

There was more silence, save for Louis shifting his feet just a little as his eyes remained stitched to Harry’s, the blue rimmed with red as he hopefully absorbed all that Harry’d said, even though his memory of it would be vanished the next day.  It was still horrifying nonetheless, having Louis stare into his soul after he’d flat out confessed his attachment to him.  Whether Louis remembered it or not, the look in that boy’s eyes at this very moment was something that was going to be sown into Harry’s brain for the rest of his life.

Louis finally turned around, gripping onto Eli lightly as he began walking again.  “Let’s go.  M’tired.”

So they walked away, and Harry immediately sunk down to the ground, his exhaustion of pain getting to him as his knees settled on the pavement and he ran a tight, stressed hand through his curls.  He let his forehead settle on the ground as he huffed repeatedly, wishing he could make it all stop.

This would’ve been the perfect moment for the universe to throw him a bone.  He was now at his lowest point, sunken to his knees as quiet tears escaped his eyes and the love of his life walked away with someone else.  It couldn’t get much worse than this.

Well, actually it could, and that would be when Louis left.  Harry’s mind had immediately been so clouded with happiness and joy for Louis that he’d let himself completely forget about how much it would hurt when Louis had to depart, especially since he still didn’t know how Harry felt about him.  It would be like a depressing weight dragged around by Harry once the boy was gone, the fact that he’d never mustered up the courage to simply tell the boy that he meant the world to him and more.

Louis was going to leave, and Harry was going to beat himself up for the rest of his life over this missed opportunity.

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i know like a few chapters ago i said there would be four more chapters, and that technically makes the next chapter the last chapter but...i've been doing some revising and yeah, i know you guys will hate me but im just gonna split that last chapter in two. it's such a long chapter and i feel like there needs to be space in between pls i love you all don't burn me at the stake k

 

 

Zayn’s door swung open, and Harry didn’t waste a moment under the boy’s gaze as he walked quickly into his apartment before the waterworks would start.

“Harry, what’s wrong—“

“Louis’ my soulmate,” he blurted, his eyes already red as he settled his back against the couch, not even having given Zayn a chance to close the front door yet.  He bit on the edge of his nails as he struggled to contain all the frustration, but he simply couldn’t.  He’d been like a shaking ball of contained energy on the entire ride to Zayn’s place.

“He’s—he’s my soulmate, and I don’t know what to _fucking_ ,” Harry started, pulling his fingers out of his mouth in order to run them through his hair.  “I don’t know what to _do!”_

Zayn locked his front door before quickly coming over to stand in front of Harry, his eyes huge in shock.  “Wait—Louis’ your _soulmate_?”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Harry plead through a weak voice, already turning around to start toward the kitchen in order to satisfy the restlessness of his feet.

“I’m sorry that I’m reacting this way because this is the first time I’m _ever_ hearing about this,” Zayn said incredulously, following Harry into the kitchen.  He spoke to himself as he paced around the kitchen, his frantic energy now matching Harry’s.  “I—I fucking _knew_ it!  I had a feeling, and I was thinking, _so this fucker seriously isn’t going to tell me_ —“

“ _Zayn_!” Harry begged, now chewing on his nails again with watery eyes.

Zayn’s steps came to a halt as he realized how genuinely tormented Harry was by all of this.  He came in front of Harry, smoothing his hands down the sides of his arms as he fixed a concerned stare on him. “What’s the matter?”

Harry shook his head, really wishing that for one day, just _one_ day, he wouldn’t cry over this.  “No…I…” he started, his words already choked.  He broke away from Zayn’s grasp in order to wander aimlessly around the kitchen in search of something, anything to distract him even a little bit.  “I don’t know what to _do_ , and—I have no idea of what I’m—“ he opened a cabinet in search of a mug so he could attempt to make himself tea, but he only found plates and bowls.  “What do I _do_ , Zayn?  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, and—“

“ _Harry_ ,” Zayn said, trying to get the boy to calm down as he continued to maneuver around the kitchen.

He pulled out one of the drawers and _still_ found nothing, and at this point, his breakdown was all Zayn’s fault, because the boy had absolutely _no_ mugs.  Harry slammed the drawer shut and couldn’t control the tears that finally escaped his eyes, wiping at them hurriedly as he continued to mumble nonsense.  “I don’t know what to do.  How the fuck am I supposed to _handle_ this?”

Zayn slowly came up to him, his movements hesitant as he moved Harry’s hands away from his face.  Harry couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy in all his vulnerability, instead focusing on the kitchen sink beyond Zayn’s head.

“Calm down, Harry,” Zayn said softly.  Once he realized that Harry in fact, couldn’t calm down, he pulled the boy in for a hug, Harry falling right into his shoulder as he grasped at his shirt and allowed the tears to fall.

He was grateful of the fact that Zayn barely knew what was going on, yet he still accepted all of Harry’s choked sobs with open arms.  Harry was so fucking thankful for him and he didn’t know how to express it.

“He doesn’t even see it,” Harry mumbled almost inaudibly into Zayn’s shirt as his hair continued to be stroked.  “It’s clear as day and he doesn’t even see it.”

“There, there, Harry,” Zayn hummed quietly into his ear, Harry’s face still hidden in his shoulder.  He continued to let Harry stain his shirt with tears, completely patient as Harry’s sobbing ceased to stop.

“He even almost had meaningless sex with me,” Harry nearly whined, gripping Zayn’s shirt tighter.  “He obviously doesn’t feel the same way, so why the fuck do we even have the same tattoo?”

Zayn’s hand slid down from his hair in order to rub at his back, Harry still clinging onto him as his eyes burned and portrayed how he felt inside.

“Remember me and Niall, though?” Zayn asked, his voice soothing.  “We didn’t know how one another felt at first.”

“Oh, please.  You guys were an old married couple before you even knew you were soulmates.”

Zayn laughed for half a second at that, before pulling back in order to get Harry’s red, painful eyes to meet his serious ones.  “Not all pairings are the same.  You just have to give it time.”

“ _What_ time?” Harry nearly exploded, balling his hands into fists.  “Louis’ _leaving_!”

Zayn simply shook his head, probably feeling more sorry for Harry than Harry was for himself.

“And I’m such a loser that I’m not even going to try and do anything before he leaves,” Harry choked out.  “I’m just gonna continue to torture myself until he walks right out the door, and then I’m gonna beat myself up over it, thinking about what I should’ve done.”

“Oh, Harry,” Zayn said with a sigh, before pulling him back in for an embrace.  “It’s all going to be okay, and you’re stressing yourself out over nothing.”  His sentences were whispers in Harry’s ears.  “It will happen the way it’s supposed to.”

In the middle of their earnest heart to heart moment, Zayn’s front door opened abruptly, but Harry didn’t shift his position in Zayn’s arms even a little bit.

“Woah, did I intrude on something?” he heard Niall ask, his footsteps entering the kitchen.

Zayn kept Harry at arm’s length, turning around to shake his head at Niall as the boy tossed his keys on the counter and took a seat by it.  “No, love.  Harry’s having soulmate issues.”

Harry huffed, because well.  It was _that_ easy for him to just blurt out Harry’s personal troubles?  Zayn grinned when Harry gave him a displeased look.

“I don’t keep anything from him,” Zayn said with a shrug, before pulling Harry over to where Niall was sat so they could join him in sitting around the kitchen counter.

Niall was smiling at Harry now, complete satisfaction on his face from getting to see Harry all lovesick and beat up.  “Let me guess, is it Louis?” he asked, his feet dancing around under the table in anticipation.

Harry sniffled as he set his clasped hands on top of the table.  “It’s _supposed_ to be, but at this point, I don’t even know.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Zayn pleaded, stroking Harry’s shoulder.  “He _is_.  If you feel it in your heart, then it’s true.”

Niall nodded in agreement, causing Zayn to beam with pride.  “Here’s the thing about Louis…” Niall started, Harry putting his head down on the counter solemnly.  “I’ve known him the longest out of anyone in the band, so I understand how he works.  He won’t know unless you tell him.”

Harry groaned in response to that.  “I basically have.  I do pretty much _everything_ a boyfriend does, and sometimes I even say weird, romantic things without knowing it.”

“Well, all that’s probably doing for Louis at the moment is confusing him,” Niall said.  “You have to tell him _explicitly._ Sit the boy down, take his hand, and tell him how you feel about him.  Until then, he’s just going to assume the worst.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, his view of Zayn’s kitchen sideways as he continued to lay his head on the counter.  “Isn’t _fate_ supposed to handle that sort of thing?  God, do I have to do it all _myself_?”

 

~*~

 

Harry opened his mouth in order for Louis to insert the weird coconut snacks he’d bought from the international store into his mouth.  Harry immediately winced once the taste settled on his tongue, bringing Louis to place his palm over Harry’s lips, giggling profusely.

“Swallow it,” he laughed, causing Harry to hold back a chuckle as he swallowed it with quite a struggle.

“Why are you making me do this again?” Harry asked, his feet dangling from where he was sat on top of his kitchen table.

Louis opened up another bag of foreign treats, his eyes fixed in concentration.  “So I can know which ones are good.”

“I never signed up to be your test dummy.”

“You _love_ being my test dummy,” Louis teased, before moving to stand between Harry’s legs and bringing a rather nice looking pink pastry up to his lips.  Harry opened up, allowing his teeth to bite down on it, and he was pleased to find that it tasted as good as it appeared as little bursts of strawberry sweetness filled his mouth.

“Is it good?” Louis asked.

Harry took a moment to chew, Louis’ hopeful eyes remaining upon him.  “No.  You should give me the rest of them so I can throw it out later.”

Louis giggled as he turned around in order to try the same pastry he’d given Harry.  “You think you’re so funny don’t you?” he teased through a full mouth.

“I _am_ funny,” Harry replied with a grin.

Louis reached back into the grocery bag full of snacks as he continued to laugh, and the comforting quietness of the kitchen started to ease its way inside Harry.  They’d woken up fairly early—if noon was early—for a Saturday, and Harry was pretty sure this was the most productive they’d been before four in the evening.  He felt thoroughly soothed with the knowledge that they were still in the beginning of the day, and here Louis was with him, feeding him snacks and blessing Harry’s eardrums with the beautiful melody of his giggles.

The thought kind of made Harry laugh a bit, although it was a bit more tragic on his part.  Every time Louis turned around to reach into the grocery bag, Harry’s eyes remained on him, a sort of pleading, yearning look behind them that Louis would never see.

“Um,” Harry started, scratching at the collar where his shirt met his skin.  “Do you, uh….remember anything from that party?”  He finished the question off with a casual chuckle for good measure.

Louis paused his movements of ripping open another pastry wrapper and turned toward Harry, one of his eyebrows quirked upward.  “Um…I don’t think so.”

Harry drummed his fingers against the kitchen table as he stared at a tile on the ground.  “You don’t remember the fight we had?”

Louis remained silent, his eyes on Harry as Harry’s remained on the ground, hoping the simple answer would be “no”.

“Vaguely,” he finally said, causing Harry’s gaze to shoot up with worry.  He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart completely stop, if only for a few seconds.

“I kinda remember you going _drink, I don’t care,_ and then the rest was a blur,” Louis said, beginning to laugh again.

Harry grinned thankfully after that, praying that Louis was telling the truth about what he remembered.  “You’re bad at mimicking me.  I don’t sound like a groggy old man.”

“Yes you do,” Louis replied with a nod, before he made his voice lower in order to resemble Harry’s again.  “You talk all _slow, and unsure and just…um, I dunno, and stuff—_ ”

“I do _not_ ,” Harry retorted.

“Sure, Harold.”

Harry grinned at him observantly for a moment, sort of glad that he didn’t remember much, but also irritated for that exact same reason.

Harry leaned forward from where he was propped up on the kitchen table, letting his hand slide down Louis’ arm as he pulled him in.

“What?” Louis asked, eyes easy as he stared into Harry’s.

“I just want to assure you that I _am_ proud of you,” Harry told him, looking down at the boy as he stood between his legs.  “I’m happy that you’re getting to go on tour, and that your dreams are coming true right before your very eyes.”

Louis’ eyes sparkled as he grinned up at Harry, all the happiness in the world contained within his two oceanic irises.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Harry asked him.

Louis hesitated before he nodded, quickly beaming with pride as he held gaze with Harry.  “I am.”

“Good, because you should be,” Harry whispered, tilting the boy’s chin up so he wouldn’t look away bashfully.

Harry wanted to kiss him.  Harry wanted to kiss him more than he wanted to breathe right about now, but he didn’t want to ruin anything else.  Maybe this would’ve been the kiss that finally pushed Louis away, because it was going to happen during a moment that was far too heartfelt and sappy.  Harry had to keep himself from acting upon his desires, so he let go of Louis’ chin.

Louis made a face at him as he shook his head, as though he found it hilarious that Harry was acting weird, and he pursed his lips before going back to his bag full of goodies.

Harry suddenly got a spike of courage, as though watching Louis shake his head at him fondly instilled a foundation of bravery inside of him.  Harry swallowed once before opening his mouth and allowing words to formulate themselves.

“Louis, what do…” Harry started, feeling the air surrounding them quickly become thinner.  Was he _already_ sweating?  Louis was now looking at him, his lips pressed together and eyebrows raised with interest as he popped another pastry into his mouth.

“What do you think about a date?” Harry asked, his voice only cracking a hint.  “With—with me.”

Time was consumed of Louis chewing slowly, seemingly procuring a moment to process what Harry had asked, whilst Harry blinked at the kitchen tiles, trying to figure out what had gotten into him just then, and why he hadn’t taken it back yet.

Eventually, Louis giggled lightly into his hand as he finished chewing and brought himself to swallow.  “I hate dates, but sure, I’ll go ironically.”

Harry slid down from the table, his eyes pleading as he inched toward Louis, taking one of his hands and pulling him in close.  “I don’t want you to go ironically.  I want you to actually enjoy it.”

Louis was doe eyed as he stared up at Harry, his expression more confused and clueless than Harry had ever seen it.

“Oh…kay,” Louis finally said, his body now completely still.

His words (or word, for that matter) were filled with complete uncertainty and even a hint of fear, but he’d agreed to the date, and that was all that mattered.  It was beyond Harry’s wildest dreams, thinking that there would actually be a day in the near future where they would dress up to go out on an actual _date_ , and that he’d mustered up the _courage_ to ask him, and that Louis had _accepted_.

Harry had to ask himself if he was dreaming numerous times as the date approached, and when he found himself standing in front of the mirror, feeling dangerously nervous about what was supposed to happen in just a few minutes, he was _certain_ he was dreaming.

He had been standing in front of the mirror for ten straight minutes, and he was wearing a _tie_.  He couldn’t figure out if it was too much for the occasion, or if he should’ve kept it on, and it was driving him absolutely mad.  He couldn’t stop judging himself in the mirror, picking apart each and every detail of his face and his outfit.  He knew Louis was probably the least judgmental person in the world, but he couldn’t help but grow completely nervous about what was supposed to happen in precisely twenty minutes when Harry would pick him up from his dorm building.

Harry settled on taking off the tie, leaving him with his black blazer and trousers, along with the white button down he had on underneath.  His black blazer was one of his nicer ones (that he’d never worn even once in his life), laced with gold patterns at certain points along the sleeves.  He’d never thought he’d have an occasion where he would want to wear it, yet here he was.

Louis probably wasn’t even half as dressed up as he was, now that Harry took the time to think about it.

He also couldn’t help but continue to remind himself that the boy had said he hated dates, which wasn’t surprising due to how well Harry knew Louis.

He tried to calm the slight trembling of his hands as he left his bathroom and walked toward the roses he had sitting on top of his dresser.  He swallowed multiple times as he traced his fingers over the petals, hoping five roses weren’t too many—or maybe they weren’t _enough_?  Jesus.

Harry tried his best to convince himself that this wasn’t a big deal as he grabbed his keys next to the roses.  It was simply his first date with Louis _ever_ ; the date where he decided he was going to tell Louis that he loved him, and that _surprise_ , they also had matching tattoos on their backs.

The thought did nothing to ease Harry’s nerves as he shakily grabbed the bouquet of roses and prepared to leave his flat.

Surely Louis would have no choice _but_ to love him once Harry told him that they were soulmates, destined to fall in love at some point whether Louis liked it or not.

He failed at trying to get himself to calm down on the drive to Louis’ place, the serene appearance of the roses laying in the passenger seat mocking him for having tiny beads of sweat already settled near his hairline.

After he’d parked his car, he held the bouquet between his hands on the walk toward the building, the warmth of the night trying and failing at soothing him as he pulled the entrance door open.  He wandered down the halls in order to reach Louis’ room, taking especially slow steps upon nearing his destination.

 _It’s going to be fine.  It’s going to fine_ , Harry told himself, taking a long, deep breath once he was stood outside of Louis’ door.

He raised a fist in the air, his stomach beginning to betray his wishes, and he knocked three times.

He swallowed the lump in his throat many times as he waited for Louis to answer the door, already prepared to bail, even though he could hear the boy shuffling about on the other side of it.  Harry even heard him yell “Coming!” as he waited, yet he still contemplated making a run for it.

When the door opened, Harry was met with the figure of Louis, a black bandana lazily tied around his neck as he wore a loose gray jacket (which Harry was pretty sure was his own) with two pockets on either side.  He also wore tight black jeans, cuffed at the ankles, and rather dressy shoes on his feet, smooth and black, resembling oxfords.  The sight pleased Harry as he bit back a grin, bringing his enchanted eyes back up to meet Louis’.

“Those for me?” Louis asked.

This brought Harry to remember that he was holding a giant bouquet out in front of Louis without saying anything.  “Yes.”  He offered them to Louis, even bending over and bowing obnoxiously in the process as Louis took them from him.

“Do you like them?” Harry asked hopefully.

Louis grinned, crinkles forming by his eyes as he traced a finger over the stem of one of the roses.  “They’re beautiful.  Thank you.”

Harry attempted to hide his blush behind his hand before offering Louis his arm, the boy easily hooking his around Harry’s with a content smile.  The night was already off to a great start, and Harry just had to hope it would remain this way.

“I see you’re still picking me up in a piece of junk,” Louis teased, gesturing at the mess of duct tape on Harry’s car.

“I quite like how it looks now,” Harry replied, taking the time to walk all the way up to the passenger door and open it for Louis.  He was being outrageously extra, but he couldn’t stop.  He was growing obsessed with the way Louis’ eyes lit up unexpectedly at all of his sweet formal gestures.

There was only a slightly off feeling on the drive there, as though they both weren’t certain of whether they were supposed to act formal and poised or to act casual.  Harry was clueless too, because he didn’t truly know the difference between this date and all the other times they’d hung out.  Why did it have to be different?

Louis’ eyes lit up the exact same way when he was led into the restaurant Harry had made reservations in.  He had made sure this was quite literally deemed the “best one in town”, because he refused to provide Louis with a date at the “second best”.  Louis’ eyes were wide and observant as they were led to their table outside, up high on the roof where there was a lady playing the violin near the few tables.  Similar to all the other tables, there was a single candle lit in the middle of theirs, providing Harry with a beautiful, spotlight view of Louis’ face.

After the waiter had handed them their menus and was on his way, Louis stared at Harry in disbelief, probably for a full ten seconds.

“You…” Louis started, taking another moment to look around.  “You took this…very seriously.  I wasn’t expecting this.”  He spoke quiet and small, as though everything was becoming a bit overwhelming for him.

“You know I’m not one to half-ass anything I actually care about,” Harry tried to joke, lifting the bottle at the edge of the table in order to pour sparkling cider into his and Louis’ glasses.

“Where did you even _find_ this place?”

“I’m very good at finding fancy places people know nothing about,” Harry replied, taking a sip from his glass.  “It’s one of my hidden talents.”

Louis’ mouth hung open as he rested his head on his fist, staring at Harry with both of his eyebrows raised.  “Harry Styles,” he started, laughing breathlessly.  “You are…something.  How do I even know you?”

“No idea,” Harry said with a smile.  “Maybe it’s fate.”

Louis raised his eyebrows jokingly in response, tapping his fingers against the table for a second.  “I need alcohol.”

“Why?”

“I can’t handle this sober,” Louis replied.  “It seems surreal—fake, almost.  I feel like I’m being too stiff right now and I need to let loose.”

“You don’t need alcohol to do that.”

Louis sighed as he looked at the table.  “It would help…”

“You let loose around me all on your own,” Harry said.  “You’re only stiff now because you feel pressured to act a certain way since we’re on a date.”

“Well, aren’t _you_ quite the know-it-all?” Louis replied.

Eventually, they fell into easier conversation as the pressure started to disappear from all around them, and Harry found himself sitting in front of the Louis he knew and loved, stuffing his face and completely ignoring all the rules of proper etiquette.

“I don’t even know what’s in this, but it’s good,” Louis commented, digging into what Harry had ordered for Louis, since the boy couldn’t pronounce anything on the menu.  Harry knew that it was fried squid, but he was going to keep Louis in the dark for now.

They continued to laugh over their food, probably doing more talking than actual eating, and Harry was fully content with how the date had been going.  They talked about any and everything as per usual, Louis fully engaged and animated as he spoke and made Harry laugh with all of his obnoxious words.

By the time they’d ordered dessert, Louis was doubled over in laughter and nearly choking as he made fun of Harry for never having watched porn before.

“The idea of it makes me uncomfortable,” Harry said, only pouting slightly at how amusing this was for Louis.

“You.  Me.  Special movie night,” Louis commanded, gesturing between Harry and him.

“Never happening.”

He shook his head as Louis continued to laugh, and at that moment, the waiter brought the carrot cake Louis had ordered over to their table with a delighted smile.

“This is huge.  You gonna eat it with me?” Louis asked, already digging in with his fork.

Harry shook his head as he straightened out his blazer.  “Nope.  It’s yours.”

Louis hummed with satisfaction, probably because that was the exact answer he’d been hoping for.  He began giggling mid-chew as Harry watched him, his eyes shiny as he shied away from Harry’s gaze.

“What?”

“You’re actually enjoying yourself,” Harry said.  “And not ironically.”

Louis nodded as he continued to eat the piece of carrot cake, swallowing before responding to Harry.  “Good point, although it’s hard for me not to enjoy anything nowadays since I’m so happy.”

“I can tell.”

“I can’t stop wondering what the tour’s gonna be like,” Louis pondered, tapping his fork against the plate.  “I wonder if I’m gonna love performing just like I do now, or if it’s gonna become too much and eventually exhaust me.”

“I don’t think that could ever happen,” Harry replied.  “Because no matter what, you’ll be doing something you love.  As long as you always remind yourself of that, you’ll never grow exhausted.”

Harry could see how joyful Louis was becoming on the inside just from the thought of going on tour.  So happy and ready to embark on this next stage of his life, not even giving a second thought as to what he was leaving behind—or, more particularly, _who_.

“Those five months are going to be epic,” Louis said, his voice quiet amidst the tranquil night.

Harry chuckled hesitantly, averting his eyes away from Louis.  “You’re gonna be having the time of your life and I’ll be here, attending classes and struggling to meet deadlines.”

 

~*~

 

The date didn’t end after the restaurant as Harry had planned, but he wasn’t complaining.  The walk to the car had turned into a long walk across the giant bridge that stretched over one of the lakes, different people walking back and forth upon it or lounging about, enjoying the night and all it had to offer.

Harry didn’t remember when they had begun holding hands, but they were, and neither of them let go as they strolled down the bridge, right by the railing where they had the grandest view of the moonlit water underneath.

Harry couldn’t hold back an endeared grin at the view of Louis’ profile, the shadow of his long lashes, the moonlight framing the strands of his messy hair, the fact that the boy was swimming in his jacket, yet fitting it so perfectly.  Harry wanted Louis in all of his clothes.  He wanted every last article of his clothing to be worn by Louis, just so he could admire how they looked on him.

“Nighttime or daytime?” Louis asked at some point in their conversation, looking up at Harry curiously.

“Both.”

“It can’t be _both_ ,” Louis replied.

“It most definitely can be.”

Louis let out a tired breath.  “Your mum was right about you being indecisive.  And nighttime is clearly better.”

“Why?”

“Things are…more real at night,” Louis started, gesturing vaguely with his hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s.  “Like I can be more honest, you know?”

Harry nodded in understanding, their steps slowing down as they continued along the bridge.  “You _are_ more honest at night, you know that?  Those are usually the moments where you panic over nothing and start to worry me a bit.”

Louis blinked ahead in silence for a few steps, probably thinking deeply in his mind.  “I guess nighttime also makes me a bit scared too,” he laughed.  “You know, being in the dark in all.”

“It doesn’t bother me that you get like that,” Harry assured him.  “I would listen to all your worries and fears forever if I had to.”

He heard the faint sound of Louis taking in a breath, but chose not to acknowledge it as they proceeded to walk.

“You know…” Louis started, his steps now coming to a slow stop alongside Harry.  “When I said I hated dates…I didn’t _really_ mean that.”  He turned to face Harry, his eyes dark and full of sincerity as their fingers remained intertwined.  “It’s just that I never get asked on any.”

Harry could sense the slight sadness behind the sentence as Louis looked away for a half second, his grip on Harry’s hand easing a bit.  Right then, he could see Louis’ insecurities, bright as day even in the darkness of the night as the boy chewed on his bottom lip.

Harry stepped forward, slowly allowing Louis to step back until he was against the railing of the bridge.

“Not until now,” Harry whispered, bringing his forehead to Louis’.

Louis nodded with a grin, pulling Harry in closer by his waist.  “Not until now.”

It was _Louis_ who sealed the space between them with a kiss to Harry’s lips, _Louis_ who pulled at his blazer in order to tug him closer, and it was _Louis_ who held on tighter to Harry’s hand to ensure their fingers wouldn’t unravel.

This was easily the sweetest, most gentle kiss they’d ever shared.  The light gust of wind, paired with the quiet murmur of different people across the gigantic bridge made Harry feel as free and floating as a cloud in the night sky.  He felt that anything was possible as he kissed Louis tenderly, the exact way that boy deserved to be kissed each and every day.  He tasted sweet, like the apple cider they’d drunken and the carrot cake he’d consumed at an alarmingly fast pace.  Harry allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of his lips as he brushed the boy’s hair back with his free hand, pressing every ounce of adoration he had right into his mouth..

He didn’t know how long they kissed, but it must’ve been quite a while, because when Harry pulled back, Louis’ face was completely flushed as he struggled to bite back a smile.  His cheeks were rosy as he looked up at Harry, before going back in to press one last, long kiss to Harry’s lips, one that Harry chased after it was over.

“You smell like roses,” Harry mumbled into his cheek, before sniffing faintly.  “And—Giorgio Armani…did you actually _buy_ cologne for this?”

“Shut up,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes, already moving to shove Harry off of him.  Harry stayed put however, now fixing a serious stare on Louis as the boy waited for him to say something.

“What?” Louis asked.

“I have to tell you something,” Harry breathed, feeling that there literally couldn’t have been a more perfect moment than now.

Louis grew curious as he gripped at Harry’s blazer, eyes fixed on Harry’s and nothing else.  “Tell me.”

So Harry opened his mouth, determined to say all that had been written across his heart for months now.  _All_ of Louis’ attention was on him now, the boy ready to hang onto every little word Harry was about to say.  Harry sucked in a breath, thinking this couldn’t be _too_ hard, and then—

“You ate fried squid,” Harry said, resulting in an immediate gasp from Louis’ mouth as he pushed Harry in the chest.

“I _knew_ it wasn’t chicken!” Louis yelled, trying his best to remain serious, but cracking as a smile poked at his lips.  He continued their walk down the bridge as he proceeded to yell at him.  “You are fucking _evil_ , Harry!”

Harry huffed sadly, allowing himself to be dragged along by Louis.  “I am.”

As Harry watched his boy continue to speak with lights in his eyes and energy in his bones, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about how much he loved him.  He never knew it was actually possible to love someone so much it _hurt_ , but apparently it was.  Harry couldn’t imagine going a day without him, let alone five months that could easily turn into five years.

The fear hit Harry hard that night, Louis completely oblivious as he skipped along the bridge.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is basically part one of The End™, because i split the last chapter in two and this is the first part.
> 
> anyway i hope you guys enjoy it! this is probably the wildest chapter in this whole entire thing!
> 
> i also might update sooner than usual b/c i'm feelin pumped

 

 

“This is fun,” Marcus commented, eyes glued to the television screen in front of them.

Both Zayn and Liam hummed in agreement as they remained crowded on top of the single couch in Liam’s dorm, idly watching the television, each with a different reason for doing so.  Zayn, because Niall unfortunately had a class, Marcus, because he’d gotten bored of doing his laundry, and Liam, because it was his room.  Harry wasn’t quite sure of his own reason, however, and he didn’t feel like trying to figure it out.

Nonsense cartoons played on the screen as they watched boredly—although Harry thought maybe he was the only bored one, since the others actually laughed in response to the show from time to time.

“I should stop procrastinating on packing,” Marcus said with a groan.

“Same,” Liam agreed.  “If I keep this up, I’ll end up packing everything the day before our flight.”

This sparked Harry’s interest for the first time during their hour of sitting, and he quirked his eyebrow up in confusion.  “Why are you guys packing already?  Don’t you still have almost a month before the tour begins?”

There was a pause where Marcus and Liam looked at each other, before both of them bursted into ridiculous laughter, Harry rolling his eyes as he sank deeper into the couch.

“We still have to prepare, rehearse, and promote for the tour,” Marcus laughed, looking at Harry as though he was silly.  “Those things take up a lot of time.”

“Oh,” Harry replied, sinking into the couch a bit further.

They were silent for a few minutes as they watched idly, the boys throwing in a laugh here and there.

“When do you guys leave?” Harry asked after a while.

“Two weeks,” Marcus replied, to which Harry’s stomach caved in on itself as he blinked down at his lap.

“Yep.  Two weeks,” Liam repeated, his tone knowing as he kept himself faced straight ahead.

Zayn apparently felt that was the perfect moment to chime in, shining a blinding flashlight on Harry even more.  “Two.  Weeks.”

“ _Why_ are we repeating the words ‘two weeks’?” Marcus asked incredulously, sitting up.

“No reason,” Harry quickly answered.  “They’re just being annoying.”

Zayn rolled his eyes before giving Harry a pointed look.  “I’m just saying…two weeks.”

“I _get_ it,” Harry replied matter-of-factly.

Zayn perked up in order to change the direction of the conversation, clasping his hands together with delight.  “Since the semester officially ends soon, I think we should plan something that we can all do together before you guys have to leave.”

“I’m in favor of that idea,” Liam agreed, clasping hands with Zayn.

Marcus nodded as he thought about it.  “A sort of going-away thing.  I’m feeling it.”

“We just have to figure out where it’s going to be,” Liam added, stroking his chin.

They all took a moment to think as Harry’s mind continued to flood itself with panicked thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with the cute little get-together the boys were discussing.

Zayn sat up, pointing toward Harry.  “Doesn’t your dad own part of that one beach?”

Harry nodded, his eyes still blank as his mind raced.

“We can just use one of his beach houses along the coast then!” Zayn said enthusiastically.

“You’d let us do that?” Marcus asked, his eyes big.

“Sure,” Harry replied.

“Your dad owns a _beach_?” Liam asked with disbelief.

Harry nodded wordlessly, his finger now curling around a strand of his hair one too many times.

“Harry, bro, seriously,” Marcus started, slapping a hand to Harry’s shoulder.  “You’ve been there for us more than anyone we’ve met, and we can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Never have I met _anyone_ as helpful as you,” Liam added.  “I mean, you let us fucking _rehearse_ in your _home_.  Thanks so much, Harry.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry replied with a shrug, his eyes still blank.

As the boys continued to discuss their excitement over the potential get-together and plan events precisely, Harry quietly excused himself as he got up from the couch, going to Liam’s door in order to let himself out.

He wandered the halls of the dorm building aimlessly, although he knew exactly where he wanted to go.  He just didn’t know _why_ he wanted to go.  What was the point, if he wasn’t going to tell Louis how he felt?  Why did he even _bother_ if he was just going to chicken out every time, letting his fear of the unknown devour him?

The boy had two weeks.  Two more weeks to spend with Harry, and he hadn’t even told him.  Harry would’ve liked to have been _prepared_ for when the boy would leave, instead of being bombarded with it at seemingly the last minute.  Why hadn’t Louis told him when they were going to leave?  Why the _fuck_ did Louis do most of the things he did?

It didn’t take long for Harry to find himself right outside of Louis’ door, the numbers displayed on it just the same as when Harry’d first entered himself into Louis’ room.  He wondered how it would’ve been if he’d never done that; if he’d never let his curiosity of the boy get the best of him.  Of course, they still would’ve became interconnected with each other, but how?

He slowly reached for the door handle and twisted it open, not surprised to find it unlocked.  He took hesitant steps into the boy’s room, his ears adjusting to the quiet sound of some indie band playing from a speaker in his room.  He heard the music before he saw the boy, but the extra time didn’t make him any more prepared.

Louis was lying on his bed, eyes fixed on nothing as the music played, and Harry could tell he was thinking.  He didn’t even stir when Harry came into view, which Harry completely understood.  Harry never had anything important to say, so he understood why the boy had no desire to give him his undivided attention.

Louis was wearing a jean jacket with pale, faux wool on the shoulders, gray sweatpants, and black socks on his feet as he remained curled up in his bed, although not under the bed sheets.

Harry brought the tips of his fingers together as he stopped in front of his bed, feeling more unsure of himself than he’d ever been before.  He was dressed just as lazily as Louis, in one of his old, green vintage t-shirts and light gray sweats.  He had meant to feel comfortable in what he was wearing, but right now he was a nervous, disoriented wreck.

Harry spoke softly, so as not to break the atmosphere of the room.  “Why aren’t you packing?”

Louis’ eyes still didn’t move to meet his, his hands brushing at his waist as he continued to lay on his side.  He spoke monotonously, boredly.  “You know me.  I procrastinate about everything.”

“Not as much as me,” Harry half-chuckled, his voice so low he was pretty sure Louis didn’t even hear him.  He took the few steps toward Louis’ bed, settling himself on top of it and situating his body next to Louis’.

He didn’t say a word as he listened to the music with Louis for a moment, the atmosphere remaining calm, although from Harry’s point of view, it was filled with so much tension he could barely breathe.  He wanted to ask Louis a long series of questions, starting with _why didn’t you tell me you were leaving in two weeks?_ and ending with _are you in love with me like I’m in love with you?_

About fifteen minutes passed before Louis finally shifted position, situating himself closer to Harry as his back pressed against the frame of the bed, and then, slowly and gently, he let his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry’s entire body froze as he felt the weight of Louis, the slight movement of his head as he breathed in and out.   He couldn’t even hear the music anymore over the ringing of his ears and the thunderous beating of his own heart.  Instead of panicking and running for Louis’ door, however, he instead brought up his hand that was on Louis’ side, placing it in the boy’s hair and carding his fingers through it gently.

Louis didn’t stir as Harry continued to caress his strands, stroking through his fringe the way he knew Louis loved.

It was torture.

It was torture, because Harry was reminded of the fact that he would no longer have this when Louis left.  It reminded him that he was now going to have to look forward to several lonely nights, right when he’d gotten used to falling asleep to the same beauteous eyes and lashes every day.  It reminded him that he fucking _loved_ Louis, and that in two week’s time, he was going to have to live with the regret of not ever telling him so.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat as he continued to brush tender fingers through Louis’ hair, but he could only take so much before it became excruciatingly painful.

Harry sat up, causing Louis to quickly sit up as well, staring at Harry with questioning eyes.

“I have to…” Harry started, shocked by how raspy his voice was.  “I have to use the bathroom.”

Louis’ mouth hung slightly open as Harry slid down from his bed, not daring to turn around and find the boy’s eyes again as he exited through his door and stalked toward the communal bathroom.

A single tear rolled down his cheek immediately upon entering, and he closed the door behind himself as he sniffled.

He walked over to the long row of mirrors, staring at himself and his big green eyes that were quickly beginning to grow red around the edges.  He didn’t even understand why he was crying—couldn’t pinpoint one, _specific_ reason for why he was being such a baby right now.  He blinked at his reflection some more, his curls wild as they struggled to stay behind an elastic headband Harry had thrown on that morning.  He saw nothing but a little boy in his reflection as he wiped at his eyes with his right arm, willing all of the tears to stop.

He hadn’t wanted any of this.  Of all the things that he’d imagined could’ve happened in his first year at the university, this was _not_ what he’d expected.  Never in his life had he had to suffer, cry, and pine this much for _one_ person, and he was growing sick of it.  How long was this going to _last_?

After a few more minutes of staring at his reflection, he realized that the tears had finally stopped, and now he appeared as though he had probably cried an hour ago, which wasn’t too bad.  He could show his face in public now.

He breathed in and out a few more times as he stared, wondering when this had become his life.

As if right on cue, the door to the bathroom was pushed open, and there Louis was, his eyes distressed and bearing an ominous undertone that Harry wasn't used to.

“Take off your shirt,” was all he said, his words lingering in the air for a while as Harry struggled to process them.

“What?” he asked, voice weak.

“Take off your _shirt_ ,” Louis said, a bit more assertively as he took a step closer to Harry.

Harry’s mouth opened as his eyebrows knit together, feeling overwhelmed and attacked as though Louis had come charging at him.  “You know I’m not comfortable with taking off my—“

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis said, his eyes becoming far too intuitive for Harry’s taste.

Harry played with a string on his sweatpants as he laughed lightly, attempting to make a joke of the situation, although failing tremendously when his chuckles sounded painful.  “Do you want to see my beautiful body _that_ bad?”

Louis didn’t crack even a hint of a smile as his eyes remained solidly fixed on Harry.  Silence stretched between them, Harry damn sure not planning on taking his shirt off anytime soon and Louis’ face filled with sheer determination.

Harry knew it wasn’t going to work, but he attempted to shift the conversation anyway.  “The boys and I…” he started, scratching at his curls.  “We were thinking of planning a little get together before you guys leave.  I mean, if that’s alright with you…”

He brought his eyes up from the ground and attached them to Louis’, hoping that he succeeded in changing the subject, but knowing he hadn’t as soon as Louis fixed his jaw tight.

They shared a long, silent gaze.  One in which it seemed as though a string was being pulled between them, urging them together while both of them struggled to resist.  Harry breathed in and out, fighting to contain his emotion as he lost himself in Louis’ stare, because the boy wouldn’t look _away_.  It seemed as though, in the pin drop silence of the bathroom where they were now saying nothing to each other, thousands of words were being exchanged.  Harry suddenly felt exposed as the piercing sharpness of Louis’ gaze continued to claw into the deepest parts of his being.

And then, as though the elastic of the string snapped Louis before it could Harry, the boy nearly threw himself toward Harry when he kissed him, Harry’s body immediately getting pushed all the way into the bathroom wall as his hands moved to quickly grip Louis’ jean jacket.

A low, helpless hum escaped Harry’s lips as they kissed, more fast-paced than they’d ever done it. Louis’ strength started to become increasingly evident as he held Harry in place and kissed the life out of him, causing Harry to grow both shocked and turned on all the same.  Harry’s arm wrapped around the back of Louis’ neck, pulling him in as Louis began to suck at his jaw, Harry’s body shivering with every touch of his lips.

Louis continued to press himself into Harry, both with the passion of his lips and the fervor of his body, seemingly desperate for them to get as close as possible.  Harry attempted to soothe his desperation by wrapping one of his legs around the back of Louis’ thigh, locking him in as he shuddered from Louis’ teeth lightly dragging over his neck.  He was practically trapped between the bathroom wall and the sink, holding on to Louis for dear life as the boy began to kiss deeply at his neck.

Harry sucked in a breath as he bit down on his bottom lip, scrambling for something to hold onto and finding himself knocking over the hand soap bottle instead.  He didn’t have time to dwell on that, however, when he felt Louis’ hand come to rest over the front of his sweats.

“Louis,” Harry breathed, tilting his head so Louis could work on the other side of his neck.

His hips budged up into Louis’ palm as he mindlessly repeated the word _yes_ , giving Louis all the motivation in the world to touch him however he wanted.  Harry gasped when Louis’ hand finally moved, rubbing up and down his crotch and seemingly coaxing him toward an aroused point of no return.  Harry wanted to come up with normal words, but he couldn’t as he made choked sounds and grasped at Louis’ jacket as though the boy was going to slip away.

When he found himself moving his hips up toward Louis’ hand every time the boy pressed down, he could feel himself slowly starting to lose it, and they’d barely even done anything yet.  It was just _Louis_ and every part of him—he drove Harry wild by simply existing.

“Wait,” Harry suddenly breathed, placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders.  The boy’s hand movements immediately stopped, leaving Harry frustrated despite being the one that had put a pause to it.  Louis pulled back to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed, pupils dilated, and hair mussed beyond belief, due to the way Harry had wildly ran his hands through it.

Harry’s voice was incredibly small and innocent when he spoke.  “Can we finish this in your room?”

Louis didn’t hesitate before reaching for Harry’s hand, lacing their fingers together as though it was second nature.  Harry allowed himself to be pulled along as he remained in a dazed, intensely aroused state.  He almost stumbled behind Louis a few times on the journey back to his room, and as soon as they entered, Louis closed the door behind them and went to finish what he started, climbing over Harry on the bed as their lips collided with one another yet again.

Harry was already reaching for Louis’ waist in order to bring their bodies close again, but Louis resisted, choosing instead to hover his body over Harry’s as he put his hand right back where it was upon Harry’s growing bulge.  He didn’t simply place it on top of Harry’s sweatpants again, however.  This time, he made sure to slowly slip his fingers inside Harry’s sweatpants so that he was groping him right over his boxers.  Louis' hand began to press down against it with less hesitance as his determination seemed to grow, and Harry was nearly drawing blood from how viciously he’d been biting down on his lip.  All of it was gradually becoming too much to handle for Harry; Louis’ arm wound around his back, his hand pressed to the front of his pants, and his mouth sucking deeply onto the crook of his neck, Harry bearing the knowledge that he’d definitely had bruises at this point.  His body was thrumming with desire and lust as he used both hands to cradle Louis’ head tightly, bringing the boy’s face as close to his neck as it could get.

He hadn’t even realized he had been murmuring _please_ , _please_ repeatedly, until Louis brought his head back up so his nose pressed against Harry’s, shushing him gently as Harry tried to get his body to stop shaking.

Louis continued to ease him with his precious-sounding _shhh_ ’s , Harry’s eyes watering as Louis’ hand movements against his boxers slowed down tremendously.  Harry wanted Louis so much he was on the verge of crying, and here Louis was, doing his best to calm the boy down.

Louis slowly slid his hand out of Harry’s pants, keeping steady eye contact as he made precise movements, the dainty tips of his fingers curling up under the hem of Harry’s t-shirt.  He shared gaze with Harry for a moment, seemingly trying to get his permission with a mere look into his eyes.

“Trust you,” Harry breathed, his eyes following Louis’ face with every half inch he moved.

Louis leaned down and pressed a single, chaste kiss to Harry’s lips as he moved the material of Harry’s shirt, slowly bunching the center of it at the top of Harry’s chest, so that his entire torso was now bare and exposed.  He pulled back, letting his head hover over Harry’s neck as he breathed him in, before lowering himself in order to plant a kiss on the bare skin on top of one of his collar bones, sending Harry trembling again.

He trailed his kisses down Harry’s body, warm, soft lips providing Harry with a spark of desire every few seconds.  The moment was so intense, although hardly anything was happening.  Harry found himself biting down on one of his fingers as Louis’ kisses went lower and lower, his hot breaths tickling the tiniest of hairs on Harry’s skin.  The feeling of Louis’ strands gently brushing against his stomach caused Harry to close his eyes, teeth clenching against his fingers.  There was a long pause, where Louis’ face was now in a territory neither of them had ever gone, and Harry was very close to the edge of bursting with pleasure as his body continued to vibrate.

When Louis pressed a final, long, heavy kiss to the very bottom of Harry’s stomach, right above the waistband of his pants, that was when Harry lost it, his toes curling as Louis reached up and laced his fingers with Harry's, holding him through each and every second that he moaned and whispered Louis’ name.  Harry was certain this was something to be embarrassed about for the rest of his life, but at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  This was proof that Louis was aware of exactly what affect he had on Harry.  He barely even had to touch him to turn him into a sobbing, pleading mess.

“It’s okay,” Louis whispered as he positioned himself so his face was over Harry’s again.  He leaned down to kiss him, cradling Harry’s cheeks as Harry kissed him back with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which ended up being very little due to the fact that he was now dizzy and lax.

Louis pulled back from the kiss, his lips parted for a moment as he stared at Harry with concern.  “Why are you crying?”

Harry took the time to touch at his own cheeks, feeling them slightly wet to his utter surprise.  He wiped away at them as Louis remained positioned over him.  “I—I didn’t realize.  It’s just a lot.”

It was a vague statement, but both of them seemed to understand what it meant as they went back to kissing.  They locked lips lazily and tiredly, fingers curling around in each other’s hair as they slowly shifted positions on the bed.   They kissed for a long time, Harry presumed, because when he finally opened his eyes after Louis gave him a final peck, the sun was starting to go down and the room was growing dark.

“Do you want me to, um…” Harry whispered, hoping Louis would catch onto what he was saying as they shared breaths between each other’s mouths.  Harry would’ve literally done whatever Louis wanted him to in order to return the favor, the boy just had to say the word.

Louis pulled away, sitting up in his bed as he shook his head.  His eyes were now glued to his lap, and he didn’t look at Harry even once as he spoke.  “Wanna help me pack?”

“Sure,” Harry replied weakly.

That was their last verbal exchange before they dragged their sluggish bodies out of Louis’ bed, maneuvering around his room for his belongings as Harry silently cried the whole time, and Louis pretended he didn’t notice.

 

~*~

 

“Have you guys even left yet?” Harry asked, his phone pressed against his ear as he continued down the highway.

“Nope, but we’re getting there,” Zayn replied, sounding as though he was struggling with carrying something.

Harry smacked his teeth as he shook his head.  “You guys are supposed to be there before us.  _You_ have the main key to the beach house.”

“I know, I know,” Zayn replied.  “Marcus’ suitcase busted, and you _know_ Niall’s a heavy sleeper.”

“No, I don’t know,” Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at the road through his sunglasses.

“We’ll be there before you!” Zayn assured him, followed by the inaudible sound of Niall saying something to him.  “I’ll call you later.”

Harry let out an exhausted breath before pressing to end the call, wondering when his life involved making sure six different people were coordinated.

“They’re still on campus?” Louis asked, his feet kicked up on the dashboard as he sat in the passenger seat.  He was wearing one of Harry’s sunglasses as well, gold rimmed as he pursed his lips at Harry.

“Yep,” Harry nodded with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Well, they should still be there before us, since we’re making a stop at your dad’s first,” Louis pointed out.

“It’s gonna be quick though,” Harry replied.  “Only to get the spare keys in case Zayn loses the one I gave him.”

“Please,” Louis scoffed.  “Any visit to your dad’s always turns into a full-fledged father-son reunion.”

“Does not,” Harry countered.

“You guys just have so many _emotions_ ,” Louis started, using a cutesy, mocking tone.  “And _feelings_ , and whatnot.”

Louis’ belongings were stacked up, filling both the backseat and the trunk, because the boys had planned on going to the airport straight from the beach house.  No time to waste, Harry figured.

A few of Harry’s own things were packed as well, but just for their stay on the beach.  Not enough for a five month vacation away from home.

They reached his father’s house in record time, and Harry had to go back and forth with Louis for about ten minutes in order to express that it was okay for him to come inside his father’s house.  He refused to leave the boy in the car, especially on such a hot day, and with much willpower and aggression, Louis eventually obliged with a heavy sigh.

The boy’s stance against going inside was completely forgotten about by the time they were actually _inside_ , because, just as expected, Harry’s father was being especially nice to Louis.  He was pushing it _just_ a bit, but Harry could tell he was trying his best.

As soon as the boy had called him “Mr. Styles”, his father let out a hearty laugh, pulling Louis into a friendly hug.  “Call me Thomas.  We’re all family here, right?”

Louis’ eyebrows rose with interest as he accepted the hug hesitantly.  “Family?”

“Yeah,” his dad replied, scratching behind his ear as he blinked at Louis many times, then at Harry, then back at Louis again.  He clasped his hands together, his eyes bearing a hint of desperation for Louis to feel welcome.  “Do you want anything?  Tea?  Lemonarita?  Lassi?”

Louis squinted his eyes at Harry’s dad for a few seconds, some vulgar words of confusion most likely on the tip of his tongue.  “What are you _naming_?”

“Drinks,” his father answered, now fidgeting with his hands as he glanced between them again.  Harry knew what he was doing; he was still trying to grasp the fact that this was real.  “Help yourself to anything you’d like in the kitchen.  I want you to be comfortable—not that there’s any reason for you _not_ to be comfortable—I accept you, but…make yourself comfortable, okay?”

Louis stared at him for a moment, appearing lost and confused due to having all those jumbled words thrown at him.  He eventually nodded his head, narrowing his eyes a bit as he already began to move for the kitchen.  “Oh…Okay.”

Knowing Louis, Harry was certain that the boy was going to most _definitely_ make himself comfortable, and especially in the kitchen.  His eager-to-please father was surely going to be eating his words later.

Harry turned to his dad once Louis was out of sight, probably ransacking the kitchen for sweets.  “You don’t have to try so hard.  Don’t _make_ this seem like a special case, or something.”

“I’m not,” his dad replied, although his hands were still fumbling with one another.  “I’m treating him like I would treat any other. . . _person_ , you dated. “

Harry pressed his lips together, feeling frustrated as he kept his eyes glued to the large Arboricola plant on top of the glass table.

His dad took a step forward, placing one hand on Harry’s shoulder and looking at him with pleading eyes.  “I’m trying, Harry.”

Harry nodded understandingly, feeling the sincerity of his dad’s words.  Although his father was clearly having to train himself to get used to something as simple as Harry dating a guy (even though they weren’t actually dating, don’t remind him), Harry was appreciative of the fact that he put in enough effort to try, and didn’t just write Harry off as soon as he’d told him.  He was trying in the same way Harry had promised he was going to try with _him._

The thought perked Harry up immediately as he looked around, eyes already in search of Angel.  “Where is she?”

“She’s uh—“ his father started, before something behind Harry’s head caught his eye.  Instead of finishing his sentence, he gestured behind Harry, a prideful grin on his face as though he’d seen the sun.

Harry turned around, and the first thing he saw was Angel’s mother, holding Angel in her arms as the little toddler remained fast asleep.  She gave Harry a soft smile as she emerged from the hallway, swaying his sister back and forth on her hip.  Her hair was messy and wild, slight bags under her eyes as though she hadn’t gotten a proper sleep in a while, but she smiled nonetheless, making sure not to utter a peep as she continued to hold Angel.

Harry could already feel his feet walking toward her, just to get a closer glimpse of Angel sleeping peacefully, grabbing onto her mother a bit more every few seconds as though her fingers were trained to do so.

“She’s been saying your name all day,” her mother whispered as Harry curled a piece of Angel’s hair around his finger.  “She really likes you.”

A grin spread across Harry’s face in response to that, his dimples deepening themselves into his cheeks.  He kept his eyes on Angel’s closed ones, calm and innocent as she continued to sleep the day away.

“I like her too,” Harry whispered back, before finally turning his attention to the woman holding her.  “You’re a great mother.”

She drew in a breath, as though that was the last thing she had ever expected Harry to say, but she smiled in spite of that, pulling him into a gentle side hug so as not to wake Angel.  “Thank you.  It means a lot.”

They shared a warm moment where they were briefly joined together because of their shared love for Angel, and Harry wondered why he’d ever been mad.  He still wasn’t fully _okay_ , but he was dealing with all of this much better than he’d ever thought he would’ve.

A faint crash of silverware sounded in the kitchen, breaking Harry out of his peaceful state and causing Angel to begin to shift in her mother’s arms.

Harry sighed before already starting on his journey toward the kitchen.  “I’ll go see what he did.”

 

~*~

 

They ended up spending much more time than Harry’d intended at his dad’s house, especially after Angel woke up and quickly took a liking to Louis, who spent most of his time in her room helping her fit basic shapes into their correct holes on one of her toys.

Harry had been doing the tedious work of reassuring his dad that he didn’t bomb his exams and that he was actually pretty confident in all the end-of-semester tests he had taken.  His dad soaked all of this up with a proud smile, because he’d always held this spotlight over Harry, portraying him to be some genius among men.  Harry had always been so bored and friendless to do anything _but_ study when he was growing up, so it wasn’t hard for him to make good grades.  He surely wasn’t a genius, however.

“You’ve got quite the brain, Harry,” his dad said, patting him on the shoulder.  “Don’t let it go to waste.”

They were in Angel’s room, stood by her dresser as Louis sat with her on the carpet many feet away, now making choo choo sounds as he played with the toy train and coaxed giggles out of her tiny mouth.

“I won’t,” Harry assured him, his attention half-focused on the distracting sight of Louis and his sister.

“I’m serious,” his dad said.  “And now you’ve got a whole new school year ahead of you—an opportunity to be even _better_.  You can finally start planning your future.  I’ve already got some summer internships in mind to get you started—“

Harry swallowed at the thought of being forced to do _more schoolwork_ over the summer.  “Slow down, dad.  Can I enjoy my summer?”

His dad’s smile faded a bit as his eyes turned questioning.  He inched in a little, as though he was telling Harry something no one else needed to hear.  “Isn’t—Isn’t your, um…boyfriend going away for the whole summer?”

Harry scoffed as he rolled his eyes, wishing his dad didn't stab that knife through his chest like it was nothing.  “Yes, he is, but I can still enjoy my summer,” Harry replied.  “And I promise you, he wouldn’t be offended by the word ‘boyfriend’.”

“Sorry,” his father said meekly, before setting the serious expression back upon his face.  “I just want to see you succeed.  I’m telling you, a B.S. in Biology will have you _set_.  There are also so many minors to choose from—“

Harry was already backing away as his father continued to speak, holding both of his hands up.  “Let’s talk about that at another time.  Preferably when summer hasn’t _just_ begun.”

His dad shook his head exhaustedly at him, although Harry was certain there was a hint of fondness behind it.

Harry waltzed over to Louis and Angel, clapping his hands together to get their attention as Angel poked at Louis’ face.  “Sorry Angel, but we have to leave.”

Just like that, her face scrunched up for a moment, and then she started crying—full on _wailing_ —simply because of the word “leave”.

“Look what you’ve done,” Louis hissed, already scooting up close to her so he could pull her sobbing face into his chest.  Her weeping eased a bit, but her breath continued to come out in hiccups as she pulled at the fabric of Louis’ shirt, sniffling and drooling.

Harry absolutely hated this sight in front of him right now.  Louis, turning soft so easily around a toddler who he barely even knew, as though all of this was instinctual for him.  Harry hated the fact that he ran his fingers through Angel’s curls and shushed her, whispering words into her ear about how they were going to come back soon, even though he knew that _he_ , himself, wasn’t going to come back soon.  He was saying it simply to get Angel to stop crying, to comfort and reassure her in her time of distress, and it was sickening, because it made Harry’s heart flutter in his god damn chest.

Once Louis successfully got Angel to calm down, he squeezed her in as tight a hug as he could, her laughs squeaking throughout the room as she held onto him, and Harry leaned down to give her forehead a sweet goodbye peck.

They said their goodbyes to the entire house before they left, which didn’t happen without their dad assuring Louis that he could call him if he needed anything, the man also not forgetting to mention that he was “part of the family” about three more times.

“I didn’t know your dad was so…welcoming,” Louis commented as they strolled down the path from the front door.

Harry shoved a hand into his pocket as he kicked at a pebble on the ground.  “What, you thought he was gonna be douchey?”

“No…I just didn’t expect him to be so…” Louis started, motioning with his hands.  “Suffocatingly nice.  That would be the best way to put it.”

“Suffocatingly?  Not a word.”

“Unless your name is Oxford Dictionary, I don’t think you’re the judge of that,” Louis retorted, and Harry could just tell he was rolling his eyes under those sunglasses by the way his head tilted to the side.

The sun was beaming down on them more than usual, the day was bordering on uncomfortably hot, and Harry was in love with this boy walking next to him.  As simple as that.

Harry had told his dad that he’d be back in a few days, and all he kept thinking about when saying that, was the fact that Louis wasn’t going to be around anymore.  In a few days, he would be going back to the average, superficial, humdrum life that he’d tried so hard to shy away from, all because Louis would disappear.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

_a continué..._

 

He _wanted_ Louis to leave—he would’ve been selfish if he didn’t.  His absolute strongest desire was for the boy to go on that tour and be the outstanding person he was destined to be as soon as he’d touched pencil to paper.  He was never going to suggest that Louis stay behind just so he could continue to provide the color in Harry’s black and white life.  It would be wrong.

He didn’t know what exactly it was that he wanted, and it frustrated him to no end.  There were many different points and lines drawn across to connect to other desires and different ideas and theories and things Harry wished he could do—but in the end, all of it traced back to the fact that he wanted Louis.  That was all.  He simply wanted Louis.  It wasn’t in a physical, possessive manner that many would’ve taken literally.  The want was more of a _spiritual_ kind, and Harry knew that once he genuinely had Louis, the blurred lines between what was and what wasn’t would become perfect clear.

The drive to where the other boys were located was a lengthy one, but nothing was made weird in the car as they remained their casual selves.  The thing was, Harry was sick and tired of being _casual_.  He was _exhausted_ of acting like they hadn’t recently begun holding hands in bed at night and not mentioning anything about in the morning, _fatigued_ from ignoring the fact that they’d shared their most intimate moment just a few weeks before in Louis’ bed and Harry _cried_ , completely _weary_ of pretending everything was completely fucking normal between them.  How long were they going to keep up this useless act?  Even Louis had to know that there was something going on at this point, because Harry could sense it in the way Louis’ eyes latched themselves onto his in the bathroom that day.   Louis was no longer clueless, yet they both still insisted on acting fucking _casual_.

So Harry kept up with the façade in order to please Louis, who obviously didn’t want to confront the elephant head on.  For the most part, it had seemed that this strategy was working just fine—right up until they actually reached the beach house.

It was as though an entirely different Louis had entered through the front door of the beach house than the one Harry had been riding with for two hours.

The boys expressed to Harry that they’d arrived only five minutes before them, which explained why they were still walking around with limp mouths, eyes wide with wonder as they ogled at every and anything they could get their gazes set upon.

Louis stood near the den, his arms crossed, although it seemed more like he was holding himself together.  Maybe Harry was reading too much into it.  The boy had those damn sunglasses practically glued to his face, and Harry couldn’t even try to decipher anything he was feeling, since one of the most effective ways to read Louis was through his eyes.

“The beds are fucking _swinging_!” he heard Liam yell from afar, presumably from upstairs.  Harry giggled a little in response, because he’d probably been referring to the way the beds in each room hovered over the ground, hanging from the ceiling by strong, silk pieces of fabric.

When the boys were done gawking at the ceiling fan made of bamboo leaves, the Jacuzzi with the built-in fountain on the veranda, and the game room—Louis sitting on the edge of the living room couch through all of it— Zayn and Niall were the first ones out, immediately announcing that they were going to go look for exotic sea shells and running off for the ocean shore with all the other summer crazed kids at the beach.  Harry probably would’ve been up for some fun beach activities too, but he wasn’t feeling quite like he was “in the mood”.  He’d been pumped for celebration before he’d gotten there, but now that he was actually _there_ and Louis had barely said three words since they entered, naturally, Harry’s mood declined.

Harry took it upon himself to use the juice bar on the veranda to prepare beverages for everyone left in the beach house, trying his best not to let his off-putting mood drag everybody surrounding him down to his level.  They were there to have a good time before they left for god knew how long, so Harry was going to make it his _duty_ not to ruin things with his emotions.  He put in probably more effort than he’d ever put into making a drink, into making lemonade, using the fresh lemons that were constantly restored in the cabinet of the juice bar.  It was tiresome, and involved lots of button pushing and lemon-squeezing, but Harry got through it somehow.  Everyone enjoyed and appreciated his drinks, including Louis, although he sipped at his nonchalantly as he sat far away, in one of the lounge chairs by the potted palms.  Harry had to avoid constantly looking over at him as he talked to Liam and Olivia about what their future plans were, but he couldn’t help that a force kept tugging his eyes back over to the boy.

That was how the rest of the evening went, because it was only the first day and they didn’t have any specific events planned yet, due to a lack of agreement on _anything_ amongst seven people.  Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives, however, Zayn and Niall pruning their bodies as they spent the duration of their lives wading in the ocean shore, Liam and Marcus trying not to fight each other while playing tennis on the Wii, Olivia laughing amusedly as she watched them—and Louis sitting off to the side, those god forsaken sunglasses still over his eyes that blocked Harry’s view of his current state of mind.  Harry had taken off his own about an hour ago, _just_ so he could see Louis better and be able to tell what the boy was feeling.

As much as Harry didn’t want to ask himself the question, he knew it was inevitable.   _Why_ the _fuck_ was Louis acting like this?  Everything had been fine—there was literally nothing Harry could think of that happened on the ride there that could’ve possibly, or even _faintly_ , ticked Louis off, so why was the boy acting so off and distant _now_ , of all times?  Didn’t he want everyone to be happy and joyful right before they would have to leave for months?

If that wasn’t Louis’ goal, that was just going to be too bad, because it was Harry’s.  He was not going to center another event around pining for Louis and crying and being miserable and receiving everyone’s pitiful looks.  He was going to let Louis have fun with this sad, attention-seeking act he was putting on.

That motivation stood within Harry well into the night, everyone’s energy still not having dwindled down as Niall and Zayn finally stumbled in.  They were dangling a fishnet of tiny marine objects between them, their matching purple windbreakers sopping wet as they used their loudest voices to talk about a magical sea creature they thought they'd seen.

Harry had tried to remain invested in the story of their four-hour ocean adventure as best he could, but it was when he looked around and realized that Louis was _nowhere_ , that his mind immediately made a 180 turn around.  There were many rooms in the beach house, and Louis could’ve very well been in any one of them, but the thought still didn’t help the tiny sprinkle of nervousness that was beginning to come about in Harry’s guts.  Maybe Louis _wasn’t_ trying to seek attention.

Harry decided he wasn’t going to dwell on the _maybe_ ’s and _maybe not’_ s of how Louis was feeling, because he was going to find out himself.  He didn’t understand why he always talked himself into leaving Louis alone when he knew that, in the end, he’d _always_ end up running to the boy and making sure he was okay.  It was in his nature.

He found Louis upstairs in one of the bedrooms where he had put his things, and he was sitting upright in the hammock that was hanging in the corner of the room, right next to the large, open windows where the summer breeze was gusting through.  Although the wind blew his hair gloriously and the hammock swung him back and forth with a serene slowness, he could tell Louis wasn’t at ease.  He wasn’t on his phone, tragically strumming at the strings on his guitar, or listening to music.  He was simply sitting up, his hands fidgety in his lap as his feet dangled above the ground.

The only way Harry could tell Louis noticed him walk into the room was by the way one of his eyebrows quirked up.  Harry approached him, initially with intent to sit right next to him, before questioning himself upon not knowing the reason for Louis being upset.  The reason could’ve easily been _Harry_ , smothering him too much and not leaving him with a second to breathe, and this thought brought Harry to leave distance between them, standing by one of the dressers as he set his knuckles on top of it.

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, before pressing his lips together and waiting.

Louis sat there for a bit, letting his cheek rest in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on his knees.  “Hey.”

Harry drew in a breath as he stood there, making eye contact with Louis’ black lenses as he remained at a solid distance.  Louis was wearing a pale drug rug and black ripped jeans, and Harry had been meaning to tell him that he'd adored his outfit throughout the whole day.  Maybe this would’ve been the perfect time to say exactly that, and brighten the mood?

With one look at Louis’ bored, disinterested face, Harry decided against it, instead opting to just confront the situation head on.

“What’s wrong?”

Louis was quiet for a while, Harry starting to feel as though the boy hadn’t even looked at him once, which stung.  The silence stretched for a moment longer, but Harry didn’t care.  He was going to sit there and wait for Louis’ answer, even if the world ended before the boy opened his mouth.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked, his voice quiet, yet stern enough to throw Harry off.

“What?”

“ _Why_ did you bring me here?”

Harry lightly tapped his knuckles against the dresser for a moment, letting the hollow sound of the inside of it be the only noise between them for the time being.  He wasn’t exactly sure if it was a trick question or not, so he did his best.

“So, um…” Harry started, shrugging one shoulder.  “We could have fun at the beach, and do other cool stuff…”

At this, Louis’ head finally tilted toward Harry in a sort of challenging manner.  “Like swim?”

Harry’s lips parted, although he realized he had nothing to say.  He chose instead to nod his head without uttering a word.

“You know I can’t swim.”

“Yeah, but—“

“You know I can’t swim, so what are your _other_ reasons for bringing me here?”

“I thought you would have _fun!”_ Harry replied, quickly realizing how he’d practically exploded with frustration and becoming shocked at himself.  He brought his voice level back down as he stared at the ground, blinking confusedly.  “I also…thought we could—I know you like sitting down in front of the water…so I thought we could do that again—“

“ _Why?”_ Louis asked desperately, now positioned to face Harry directly.

“ _Because_ —“ Harry started, not even knowing how to answer the question himself.  “You’re going on tour and I’m trying to have a last memory of you that’s _nice_ , for goodness’ sake!  I know you can’t fucking swim, and I’m sorry I didn’t think about that while planning this.  If that’s what’s got you all mad, then here’s my apology.  I’m fucking sorry.  I just wanted you to have fun.”

Louis gestured at himself.  “Does it _look_ like I’m having fun?”

Harry swallowed as he moved his eyes over to the lamp beside the dresser.  “No, and…” Harry started, already feeling his emotions starting to get the best of him.  He had _promised_ himself this wouldn’t happen.  “I don’t know _why_ you’re miserable.  I thought this would be fun for you, and—“ he stopped to sniffle a bit, not surprised to feel his tear ducts starting to sting.  “I thought everything would be fine for once, and now it’s not.  I, just—I thought—“

“God, stop _thinking_ , Harry!” Louis nearly screamed, his fingers now curled with exasperation.  Harry stared at him with big, wet eyes, feeling sufficiently pathetic.  He remained still, only a sniff here and there when Louis stood up, using sharp hands to gesture at Harry as he walked toward him.  “ _Stop_ thinking so much about everything, and just…do.”  He stopped in front of Harry, about a foot between them as Harry tried to avoid his eye whilst stopping the tears.  Louis continued to stare straight through him, his finger colliding with Harry’s chest once as he spoke.  “Fucking _do_.”

And then he walked away, moving past Harry to get to the door behind him, leaving Harry to stand alone in the room and try to tune out the sounds of his feet going down the stairs.  He didn’t even know what the fuck he was supposed to think, or _gain_ , from that.  The only thing he was positive of at the moment was that he was crying, and he was still unaware of what was causing Louis so much distress.  He just wanted to make everything better, but it seemed like such a thing was unachievable with Louis.

He allowed himself a proper cry upon realizing there was no way he could stifle it, no way he could try to smother how much it hurt seeing Louis this way.  Louis had seemed like a completely different person just then, snapping at Harry harder than he ever had before.  _Stop thinking so much about everything, and just do._ Harry had no idea of what that phrase meant coming from Louis.  If he had been telling _himself_ these words, then it would’ve made more sense, because it was true; he needed to stop dwelling on what the potential positive or negative effects would be if he told Louis he loved him, and just fucking _do_ it already.  He was still confused, however, because _Louis_ had said it, and he was completely unaware of Harry’s inner turmoil towards expressing his feelings for the boy.  What had _Louis_ been talking about?

Maybe Louis had a point, even though he hadn’t explicitly made an attempt to make it.  Louis _wasn’t_ having fun, Harry _wasn’t_ having fun, and soon, nobody was going to be having fun once the negativity energy of the two of them spread.  Louis was especially skilled at affecting an entire room’s mood, because that was how emotionally connected everyone was to him.  Harry had lied to himself that this weekend would be fun, even though he knew that through it all, he was going to be slowly withering away from the pain of Louis still not knowing how he felt.

Harry knew he shouldn't have been surprised that Louis was acting like this, because this behavior had begun to be a bit normal lately—Louis seeming like he knew more than he usually led on, giving Harry strange, intense looks, and overall not expressing his feelings sufficiently.  Harry thought it had started and ended that day in Louis’ dorm room, but obviously, he was wrong.

Harry didn’t come out of the room until much later, when he’d begun to hear a great deal of ruckus downstairs.  All the noise he was hearing made perfect sense when he went down and found that there were definitely extra people in the house, all of whom he did not know.  All he could do was nod his head when the boys explained that they'd invited people from nearby for a “tiny shindig”, which Harry could already tell was quickly turning into a party once Marcus asked how to use the surround sound speakers.  There were women and men alike, dressed in swim trunks and bikinis as they mingled easily with everyone that had already been in Harry’s house, and for a minute, Harry couldn’t even think of a reason for why he’d thought this whole going-away thing was a good idea.

He didn’t voice any of his complaints however, because he was still trying to recover from the good cry he’d just had and didn’t want to accidentally say something and find himself choking instead.

Harry found a spot on the armrest of one of couches, right next to Marcus as he sat with some girl in his lap, music now blasting throughout the entire place in high quality.  He sat and listened in on the conversation everyone was having, hundreds of questions being thrown at the boys about their music and the upcoming tour.

Harry hadn’t even known where Louis was until he heard the faint, harmonic sound of his voice as he answered some girl’s ditsy question about tour buses.  Harry’s eyes immediately shot over to him, and he was on a different couch, the girl leaned over the back of it in order to talk to him, and—his sunglasses were pushed into his hair.

And he was staring directly at Harry.

His lips continued to move as he spoke, but his gaze was stuck on Harry. Even as bodies moved between them and they got brief moments where they couldn’t see each other, even when some guy wearing a muscle t-shirt came and practically squeezed himself in so he could sit next to Louis, the boy’s eyes refused to leave his.

Harry returned his gaze for so long that it became clear that they were aware of the fact that they were just staring at each other, but he still pulled his eyes away eventually, shifting them down to focus on his shorts.  He concentrated intently on the drawstring at the front of his pants, knowing Louis’ eyes were on him, but trying not to allow himself to get pulled back in.

Everyone continued to talk, teasing them about getting panties thrown at them on stage, along with other wild antics.

At some point, the conversation evolved into one about the different places they would get to travel to, and of course, Marcus found it necessary to chime in.  “Louis, now you’ll get to meet hot guys in different _countries_!”  This statement caused many to laugh, as well as the guy sitting next to Louis to give him interested looks, although Louis didn’t notice any of them because he was still.  Staring.  At Harry.

Harry pressed his lips together before he pushed himself up from the couch, because it was one thing to try to stand around and cope with the reality of Louis leaving, but it was another to have to hear about him getting involved with other guys.  The very image hurt Harry’s heart, and he couldn’t fucking _take_ it anymore.  The worst part was, Louis wasn’t fucking _his_ , so there was nothing he could do about it.  He didn’t have a single shred of Louis, even in the simplest sense, and once that boy got on his flight to leave, it was fucking _over_.  No strings for Louis to be tied down to once he embarked on his grand adventure.

Harry left the beach house altogether, the carefree environment of the place starting to become depressing, because he wasn’t _happy_.  He wasn’t okay with anything that was going on at the moment and it fucking sucked that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He continued to walk in the dead of the night, his hands buried deep into his pockets as he kept his eyes straight ahead.

Maybe this wasn’t the time.  Maybe, they _were_ meant to be aware of each other's existence, but not meant to be in love for another many years.  The simple problem with that was, Harry was in love with him _now_ , and he didn’t want to painfully watch Louis fall for other people before finally setting his eyes on Harry.  It would be torture on his very spirit, so he just had to cross his fingers and hope that wasn’t the case.

His eyes watched the ocean as he tried to calm himself.  Tried to make himself okay with everything.  It was pretty deep into the night, so not many people were at the beach, and it was quiet enough for Harry to attempt to reach a state of serenity as he stood in front of the water.  All it did was remind Harry of him and Louis, sitting down in the sand, palm to palm as they shared the view—as Louis shared the view with _him_.  He’d said that he usually came alone, but Louis decided to share the view with him.  Because Harry was best friend.  And that was probably all he would ever be.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

The words brought Harry right out of his trance as he turned around, his view now completely encompassed by the only face that could make his insides swirl with the deepest affection known to man.  His cerulean eyes were a gift to be able to finally admire, significantly darker in the midst of the night with the reflection of the moon contained in them.  Harry was so distracted by simply staring at him, the distant lights of the beach house illuminating strands of his hair, that Harry had forgotten he’d said anything—and just like that, Harry repeated the words Louis had just said to him in his head.

 _It’s you, isn’t it_.

Right.  _That_ was what he had said.  Now what did it mean?

Harry, given his whole situation, naturally already had his own perception of what it meant, but—Louis couldn’t have been talking about _that_.  It was too good to be true, and it was probably Harry’s wishful thinking that even caused him to think up the possibility.

Harry just swallowed and stared at Louis with a desire to say everything he knew he couldn’t, and he wished Louis would understand.

Louis probably chose to continue once he accepted that Harry wasn’t going to say any actual words.

“You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?”

Just like that, as fast as lightning struck, as quick as a blink, in the second it took for one to simply breathe, all the air was sucked out of Harry’s lungs, and he felt as though they were in a vacuum.  He had to blink at himself a few times in order to confirm that he’d heard the boy in front of him correctly.  This might’ve been his brain playing tricks on him—feeding into how badly he _wished_ Louis could’ve said that.

He realized that this was in fact, reality, and _not_ a dream when he looked at Louis again, his expression more raw and real than ever.

Harry gave him one simple nod as he swallowed again, keeping his eyes stapled to Louis’.  It was one gesture, yet it held the power of a million words, because it was a humongous reveal that left Louis breathless, his bottom lip even starting to shake a bit.

Louis spoke, probably with intentions of sound coming out, but his words were more of a weak, choked sound.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry started shaking his head, his natural reaction to Louis in distress already coming out in full force.  His eyes were wet again, although this time, the tears were much less tragic than before.

“Because I’m stupid,” Harry nearly whispered, before bringing his sleeves up to wipe at his eyes.  “I’m so stupid, and I’m the biggest coward there is.”

Louis appeared as though he didn’t believe any of this was real, because his face resembled that of when Harry had been admiring him over the candle light at the restaurant.  The boy had been overly enchanted by everything and so unused to being catered to that he’d started to separate himself from reality, and that was exactly what he was doing right now as a distant look grew in his eye.

“You didn’t believe in it, and I was just like you in that aspect,” Harry continued.  “I never truly believed in all that stuff until I met you.”

Louis took in a deep breath, his mouth shut as his eyes seemed to be growing impossibly huge.

Harry settled one of his hands against the back of his own neck.  “I was…I could _feel_ it.  Everywhere.  It was like a _freaking_ spotlight, that burned my eyes whenever you were around.  I just knew it, but.”  Harry paused, now not possessing the strength to return Louis’ intense stare anymore as he averted his eyes to the front of Louis’ shirt.   The boy wasn’t _saying_ anything, causing it to be all the more painful and difficult for Harry to speak, but he didn’t care anymore.  He was done holding himself back from voicing the truth out of fear of all the negatives that could come about.  Standing in front of him was this beautiful, magnificent, picturesque boy, and Harry wanted to give him the world.  He had known it since the first time they’d ever spoken to each other, but he tried to ignore and lock away that little wave of affection.  He had wanted this for so long, and even if Louis wasn’t returning the same sentiment, Harry was going to _speak_ damn it.

“I tried to brush it aside, which only made it worse when the fact that I was in love with you hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe,” Harry confessed, and when his eyes darted back up to Louis’ briefly, gazing into the beauty of each pupil once again, he got the courage to continue to hold contact.   He knew in his heart that staring into the very soul of the boy in front of him was the only way that the sincerity of his words could never be questioned.  He merely whispered the words as he continued to speak.  “I couldn’t breathe, Louis.  I’m so pathetically in love with you, and I’ve had to sit here and watch you turn the other way, cling onto Eli, and…”  His emotions began to consume him as he sniffled and looked off into the distance for a moment, before bringing his eyes right back to Louis.  “I know I can’t _make_ you feel anything.  That’s actually…one of the things I love most about you,” Harry continued, chuckling sadly.  “That you won’t let anybody control you, tell you what to do.  I…I still love you, even if you don’t feel the same way.”

He started to choke about, fighting to keep it all down as he looked Louis in his bleary eyes.  His words began to trip over one another as he struggled to contain his desperation.  “I—I’ll still love you, Louis.  I don’t—I _won’t_ ever make you feel bad for not loving me back.”  His mouth was still open as he began to lose the strength to say words, the pain of what he was admitting finally starting to get to him as Louis continued to say absolutely nothing.  He let out a hopeless breath that was the precedent to a cry.  “I—I know you…you don’t—“

“Shut up,” Louis whispered, causing Harry’s glossy eyes to become alert.  Louis slowly shook his head, so faintly that Harry could’ve missed it.  His command came out breathily when he spoke again.  “Shut _up,_ ” he repeated, before taking exactly three steps toward Harry, about an inch between their noses as Louis’ bottom lip began to tremble some more.  Up close, it was clear his eyes were packing galaxies of contained emotion, as he slowly lifted one of his hands, reaching out to touch Harry.

Harry held his breath with every second that it took for Louis’ fingers to reach his face, and when the contact happened, it was like he’d suddenly been released from the gas chamber of anguish he’d been in.  Louis’ eyes studied every single, _miniscule_ detail on Harry’s face, his heavenly fingers delicately tracing over his right cheekbone, softly pressing into the area where his dimple was when he smiled, tender fingers dragging over to faintly touch his jaw.  Not a word was shared between them during this close moment, but Harry was feeling more comfortable than before, when Louis had been standing far away with an off look in his eye.  He was still on guard, however, because he didn’t know what was going on in Louis’ head.

After Louis’ fingers traced the line of one of his eyebrows, he slowly brought his hand to softly grip the side of Harry’s face, gently embracing him as Harry grew anxious of the obvious, horrid blush that had probably grown on his cheeks.  Louis’ thumb moved over his lips, settling on the bottom as he and Harry’s eyes remained attached, an unknown force rendering it impossible for them to look away.

And then, Louis’ eyes gracefully closed, and he just kissed him.

Their teeth clashed lightly, because Harry had been so consumed with emotion that he was certain he was crying by now.  Louis’ breath stuttered as he continued to hold Harry’s face, his other hand coming up to grip at Harry’s curls and pull him in, closer, closer, so fucking _close_ that Harry couldn’t help but give in, curving his arms around Louis’ back and leaning forward, completely bent over Louis as he gave into all the passion he’d always wanted to show the boy he had.  The kiss was uncoordinated, breathy, and filled with supreme levels of uncertainty, but Harry could still classify it as the best kiss— _moment_ , they’d ever shared, because he felt as though the magnitude of his own love was pulsing through his body, spreading to the other boy through the touch of their lips.  He was certain tears were trailing down his cheeks as he listened to the faint, pleading sounds Louis pressed into his lips, a sound that Harry would remember forever.

The flames surrounding the moment they were having remained, like a ring of fire encircling the both of them, as Louis rested his forehead against Harry’s, breathing unsteadily as he continued to grip strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Harry breathed with him, savoring as much of this moment as he could before it would eventually end.  Louis didn’t say anything as they remained there, connected by the press of their foreheads, the warmth of Harry’s arms around Louis’ back, and the touch of Louis’ fingers at his neck and sliding up his bare arm.

“I love you too,” Louis whispered.

And—those four words.

Those four words had been the words Harry thought he could only dream of, and he _did_ dream of them some nights, his hands just within reach of Louis on the bed, making it all the more excruciating.  Those four words were all Harry had been desiring for months, but now that Louis had said them, it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry.  The boy didn’t need to say those four words anymore, because Harry _felt_ them.  Their kiss contained a foreign electricity that Harry had never encountered before, and with every pull of Louis’ lips against his own, Harry fucking _felt_ the love Louis had for him, surging through his veins, aiding the pump of his heart, injecting itself into his brain.  Harry had believed those four words before Louis even said them.

“You love me,” Harry replied, more as a confirming statement than a question.  He closed his eyes as he reached for Louis’ hands, nearly scrambling to get them into his and feeling content once he finally caressed both of his stunning, godly palms.

He could sense the grin in Louis’ voice when he spoke again, his voice just a hint above a whisper now.  “I do.  I love you.”

“You love me,” Harry repeated, before letting go of Louis’ hands and scooping the boy up into a deep, crushing hug, Louis’ feet lifting off of the ground as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and grasped onto him as though it was the last time they’d ever see each other.

Harry was definitely crying now, and he was sure Louis was too as he sniffled into the crook of Harry’s neck, stuttered breaths of happiness releasing themselves between his lips.

Harry felt the breeze of the summer night soar down his skin as Louis’ fingers gripped the back of his shirt and pulled the fabric away.  There was a second where Harry relished the warmth of Louis’ breaths against his neck as the boy took the time to properly look at it, and then Louis exhaled with an easy, almost _relieved_ , release of breath, as though everything had finally come together.  He heard Louis choke up a little as he stroked his hand against Harry’s skin, under his shirt and right over the tattoo, pulling him closer than ever before.

“Of course,” Louis breathed, words muffled against Harry’s skin.

Harry was sure that in that instant, he and Louis were levitating.  There was no way both of their feet were on the ground anymore, because nothing could weigh them down any longer—not even gravity.  They were floating through the night time clouds and hugging amongst the stars, all the exuberance in the world contained between the two of them.

Harry put Louis down, continuing to keep him incredibly close as the boy wiped at his own tears.

“I _did_ ,” Louis said weakly, letting out what seemed like both a laugh and a sob.  “I felt it, but.  I didn’t understand what I was feeling—it was weird to me, it scared me, and it made me feel like I needed someone, so I ignored it.”  His tone of voice was desperate and raspy as calm tears continued to be wiped away from his cheeks.  “The first time we kissed, it was so _obvious,_ ” Louis continued, shaking his head at himself.  “God, I must be stupid.”

“You’re not,” Harry replied, smiling through shiny eyes as he helped to wipe the boy’s tears away.  He softly cupped the boy’s face between his hands, unable to stop touching him in any way he could.

The easiness of their eyes, glistening at one another, was enough to make all the flowers in a dead field suddenly blossom.  This was definitely, without a doubt, the happiest Harry had ever been in his entire life.  Considering he’d last thought he was at his happiest when his dad had bought him a new Mazda, this was certainly a step up.

“Fuck,” Louis suddenly breathed, the twinkle in his eyes starting to lessen.  Harry immediately moved his hands back down to intertwine his fingers with Louis’, stroking the boy’s knuckles in order to ease him out of whatever troublesome idea had consumed him.

Now Louis’ tears weren’t happy ones anymore as he pulled one of his hands away from Harry’s and brought it up to cover his mouth, attempting to stifle all the emotion as more drops fell.

He voiced himself through a pained, silent sob that had Harry’s heart hurting.  “I’m leaving.”

Harry pressed his lips together as Louis continued to break down, taking one step away from Harry as he probably already started to mentally prepare himself for failure.  Harry had already addressed his own problems, so he felt he could adequately address Louis’: that boy took extra precautions to make sure his heart wouldn’t get broken, and it wasn’t going to do anything but wreak havoc on him.

“Louis…”

“Oh God, I’m…” Louis started, a nearly terrified look in his eye as he smoothed his hand down the back of his neck.  “I tell the boy I’m in love with him right before I leave for five months.  Nice going, Louis—“

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry said, stepping forward to close the space between them again.  “You told me at a perfect time, Louis.  Not a moment too early, and not a moment too late, because you told me when you were ready.”

He delicately gripped the boy’s chin, tilting it up in order to pacify Louis’ darting eyes.  Louis pressed his mouth closed as it seemed like despair was about to burst out of him, but Harry wasn’t going to let that happen.  A volcano would spew ice and fruit punch would fall out of the sky before Harry would ever let this boy crumble to pieces.

“Harry, I’m gonna miss you so mu—“

“You don’t have to,” Harry replied softly.

Louis’ eyes grew a bit wider as he stared at Harry, completely silent.  He then detached himself from Harry, a complete empty foot of space now between them as Louis folded his arms across his chest and shook his head repeatedly.  “Harry, I could _never_ ask for something that big from you.  I would never just make you forget about your future for me.  I _can’t…_ “

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as Louis continued rambling.  “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Say what you want Harry, but I won’t be able to live with myself with the knowledge that you’ve completely put your life on hold—“

“I’ve already been thinking about taking a year off of school, Louis,” Harry said, now putting Louis in a quiet state as the boy blinked at him.  Harry looked down at his fingers as he fumbled awkwardly with them for a bit, shuffling his feet in the sand.  “And that was _before_ I even heard about the band going on tour.”

Louis continued to stare at him wordlessly, seemingly in disbelief as Harry nodded his head at himself before dragging his gaze back up toward Louis.  A tiny grin formed on his own lips from Louis’ silence, because now, the boy had absolutely no reason to continue his useless attempt at making things worse.  He was stuck with Harry for _life_.

“And now…” Harry started, smirking as he took slow steps around Louis.  “I’ll have absolutely nothing to do with those several months I’ll be out of school.”  He spoke dramatically, adding a sigh for effect as Louis’ eyes followed his steps.

“So lonely…so _bored_ ,” Harry continued, pressing the pads of his fingers together as Louis started to grin a bit, even letting out a soft chuckle into his fingers.  “What _ever_ will I do with all that _time_?”

Louis shook his head, his fond smile being to blame for creating the craters in Harry’s cheeks.

Harry paused his steps, looking at Louis pointedly as the glimmer was brought back to the boy’s eyes.  He kept his voice low and gentle, teasing Louis with every syllable.  “All you have to do is say the word.”

Louis shook his head one last time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he held a tight, quivering grin on his face.  “Harry Styles…” He kicked at the sand as he approached Harry, his eyes innocent and child-like as he looked up at him.  “Will you go with me on tour?”

Harry’s smile spread so wide that it actually became painful, but he was pretty certain it classified as a good kind of pain.  “Yes, Louis.  I will.”

Louis’ hand came up to curl around the back of his neck.  “I was hoping you would say that…”

Both of them leaned into each other, smiles lingering on their faces as they went for the kiss that would solidify everything, confirm all that they had told each other in the last few minutes.

Before their lips could meet, however, Harry’s ears rang with the loud noise of Niall shouting from afar, his voice overly excited and giddy.

“They did it!” he heard him yell with that Irish accent of his.  “I _told_ you they would do it!”

Harry was faced away from the distant beach house, so he had to turn around in order to figure out what the fuck the boy was shouting about.  His eyes were met with the sight of Niall, beckoning the _entire_ house outside as he pointed at Louis and Harry, nearly jumping out of his flip flops.  He jogged up to them as everyone stumbled out of the front door, and there were many faces of which Harry didn’t know, and others of which he did.  Like Zayn with his proud, motherly smile, Liam with his pleased grin, and Marcus with his utterly confused expression.

Although it took Niall quite a while to reach them as his feet sprinted across the sand, he practically knocked them over when he crashed into them with a hug, burying himself between them as he brought them closer with his arms.  “I’m so _happy_ for you two!  Being in love is so much fun, right?” he asked, not even waiting for their answer before releasing them and reaching into his pockets for what looked like actual fucking _firecrackers_ , now clear in his hand as he ran across the beach and crouched down to set them up.

Harry stood there, Louis still in his arms as he remained thoroughly bewildered at the fact that his life had become a movie in less than two seconds.  The crowd far behind them was even cheering and hollering for the two of them, despite the fact that most of them were complete strangers.  This was definitely a weird, eventful night.

When the jumpy blonde boy darted away from the firecrackers after lighting the fuse to them, and the deafening sound of it popping away caused both Louis and Harry to wince, everyone cheered some more, their joyous attitudes intensified by the sparks up above.  The magnificent colors danced across the sky, blinding Harry in a way he didn’t even know he could enjoy.  As he looked at the beauty of light and color displayed in the air, capturing everyone’s attention and keeping their jaws slack, Harry didn’t think there could be anything more beautiful.  When he brought his gaze down and admired the side of Louis’ face as the boy continued to keep his wondrous eyes focused on the sight, he realized that there most certainly _was_ something more beautiful than the firecrackers.

“Go on!” Zayn yelled, clasping his hands up under his chin as he urged them.

Every single eye now looked at them expectantly, patiently waiting as the firecrackers continued to pop.

Louis turned away from the sparks to look at Harry, one of his eyebrows quirked up as his lips quivered.  He could only hold it all in for so long before he burst into laughter from how ridiculous this all was.  He buried his head in Harry’s chest for a moment as he absorbed all of it, and Harry knew there was a lot for him to absorb.  He had gone from being a person who despised affection and vulnerability to… _this_.  Harry was aware it was a lot to process for the boy.

Louis lifted his head, bringing both of his hands up to caress Harry’s face.  “C’mere,” he whispered, before gracefully tugging Harry down to meet him.

Their lips met in the middle, as natural as ever once the pure fulfillment of having one another soothed their hearts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the endddd x
> 
> but not quite...there's an epilogue coming right up!
> 
> thank you all so much for the beautiful kudos, along with the lovely comments! even if you've been reading this fic and haven't left either of those things, i still appreciate you very much, and i acknowledge you as a part of the rest of us! i love you all and you inspire me to continue to do this. thank you so much. all the love to every single one of you


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue!

 

 

“No— _this_ hand,” Harry said slowly, taking Angel’s left hand and clapping it against his right.  He was trying his best to coordinate this little girl and teach her how to do something as simple as patty cake, but she clearly wasn’t getting it.

She tapped her hands against Harry’s hesitantly, her eyes shiny as she looked up at him amusedly, before erupting with giggles as Harry rolled his eyes.

“Can you guys keep it down?” Gemma asked from where she was studying on the couch.  “Just a bit?”

Harry was sat on the rug with Angel in front of him, and they were having a rather swell time, so of course Gemma had to rain all over it.  He gave Angel a pointedly annoyed look, which she easily returned.

“There are many different rooms in this unnecessarily large house,” Harry told Gemma.  “Pick one.”

“Careful, Harry,” Gemma said, pointing her pencil in his direction.  “Pretty sure dad’ll be upset if all of your sassiness rubs off on Angel.”

“No, he would be proud,” Harry replied, reaching out to let Angel play with his palm.  “She needs to be sassy, that way no one will mess with her.”

They were both in their father’s house, babysitting Angel while his dad and his _wife_ were out on a honeymoon trip.  Harry, of course, had offered to babysit because of the fact that he had already been at his mother’s house, taking a short break from the tour in order to spend time with family, so he had absolutely no problem flying out and dragging Gemma with him so they could keep Angel company.

“I feel like your sassiness has gotten worse since you’ve started dating Louis,” Gemma commented, beginning to drum her pencil against the page of her open textbook.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Well, sassy looks _good_ on Louis, but…”  She cut her own sentence off as Harry’s phone began to vibrate next to her foot.  “Speak of the devil.”

Harry was up from the rug before anyone could even blink, rushing over to grab his phone as he threw himself on the couch next to Gemma.

He batted his eyelashes sweetly as he sang with the phone next to his ear.  “ _Hello, my sweet--_ ”

“This isn’t Louis.”

Harry blinked multiple times, the smitten look wiped off of his face as he pulled the phone away from his ear in order to glance at the screen.  The contact name was the same as it’d been for months now: [heart emoji] _Louis_ [eggplant emoji], so he couldn’t figure out why exactly the person he was talking to _wasn’t_ Louis.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowed.  “Is he okay?  God, I’ve only been gone for _one_ week.”

“He’s onstage, and he’s fine,” the female voice replied, and it was _then_ that he began to recognize who this was.  Her name was Veronica, and she was one of the people Harry remembered that had been a part of the helping crew for the tour.  She was quite nice for the most part, save for the many times she would yell so loud her face turned a fiery red, when the boys kept fucking around when they were supposed to be onstage in five minutes, or when Harry wouldn’t let go of Louis so that the boy could go to dress rehearsal, or when Niall and Marcus decided to play a harmless prank on her by locking her in the custodial closet.  Other than those moments, when her (mostly justified) anger got the best of her, she was rather pleasant.

“Louis wanted me to tell you that you don’t have to send him gifts every day that you’re away,” she continued.

Harry scoffed, nudging Angel away once she came up to him and tried to grab the cell phone out of his hand.  “He loves it.”

The woman on the other end laughed.  “I can tell he does, and he tries so hard not to show it.  But seriously, Harry?  Rose petals were literally falling from the ceiling when he entered his dressing room, and he found a giant stuffed panda bear in the middle of his floor.”

Harry giggled into his palm, beginning to ignore the feeling of Angel’s prying fingers.

It was the same every time; Harry went over the top trying to provide Louis with everything he _knew_ the boy deserved and more, and Louis’ face would get all florid as he shook his head, even though deep down Harry was certain the boy adored every single part of it.  Harry knew that he didn’t have to buy Louis’ affection or show him how much he loved him through gifts, but he couldn’t stop himself.  When he used to go to department stores, malls, or even gas station markets, he would always look out for himself, but now, every time he simply admired anything in a store as insignificant as a keychain, his mind immediately told him that he should buy it for Louis.  It was a curse.

Harry was pretty sure he hadn’t bought anything for himself in _months_.  He had it bad.

“I just—I know how sad he gets when I’m not there,” Harry said, his voice lowering.  “I don’t want him to get the impression that I’m not thinking about him.  I want him to know that he’s _always_ on my mind, no matter where I am.”

There was mostly silence on the other end of the line, even though Veronica’s groan was pretty evident.  “You guys are sickening.”

“Thank you.”

“But don’t you _dare_ ever break up with him,” she added.  “We’d probably have to find a replacement guitarist if that happened, and I don’t feel like dealing with all that paperwork in the middle of the tour.”

“Well, that’s never happening,” Harry replied with a smile.  “Promise.”

 

~*~

 

Harry’s dad eventually came back from his (rather lengthy) honeymoon within a few days, and Harry spent a bit more time with his mother before deciding to join the boys back on tour.

A new thing Harry had learned since becoming fully invested in this whole soulmate business was that he needed to train himself to be able to handle time _away_ from Louis.  At first, all had been disastrous, because when Louis would’ve been at a _private_ rehearsal for practically an entire day, Harry found himself holding back tears with his overwhelming longing to be with the boy.  Zayn had ended up having to comfort him on the phone for five straight hours, and he’d refused to bring himself out from being buried underneath the duvet in his bed until he heard Louis’ voice again.

Even though Louis was quite literally his other half, Harry still had to remember to pay attention to _himself_ sometimes, which was why he immediately came home when his mother asked him to visit.  He figured occasional solitude was healthy, both for him and for Louis.

It also helped that after not seeing the boy for some time, getting to see him again always made Harry’s heart swell up even more than the last time.  It was as though Harry’s love for him continued to increase in size, even when he felt like it had reached its absolute peak.

He found himself experiencing this exact feeling of overflowing love and anticipation when he’d just gotten off the plane and was headed toward the arena the boys were opening in.

Harry had come in through the back doors of the venue, venturing out into the backstage area and hoping that the boys were done performing so that he could see Louis right away.

Once the faraway sound of “Drag Me Down” (a new song of theirs that the others boys had helped Louis write and Harry was absolutely _obsessed_ with) became prominent in Harry’s ears, he came to the unfortunate conclusion that the boys were _not_ done performing, and were still occupying the stage.  It was bittersweet, because the last thing he desired right now was to engage in conversation with anyone who wasn’t Louis, but he also deeply enjoyed the familiar sound of them making music up on stage, paired with the noise of claps, cheers, and sometimes the occasional shriek.  With a blissful sigh, he found himself slumping in one of the plastic chairs and making small talk with the crew members.

Even though he’d been pretty bummed out about not seeing Louis right away, as he sat there for several minutes, his eyes slowly started to gleam as he listened to the sound of the drums, the mellow bass that Niall was playing, and the heavenly guitar riffs that could’ve only been the result of magical fingers dancing about the guitar strings.  Of course, the only _voice_ he could hear was Liam’s, but somehow he could also hear Louis’ melodies and passionate strums, muffled yet distinct amongst all the surrounding noise.  Harry grinned at himself as he sat comfortably in his chair, because he never in a million years thought he would’ve been _this_ excited about having a rock star boyfriend.

He figured his head must’ve been way high up in the clouds as he continued to fully immerse himself in the beauty of it all, because he hadn’t even noticed when the boys’ set had ended until his name was being shouted.

“ _Harry!”_ the boy exclaimed, and Harry didn’t even get to turn his head before he was being bombarded with a wild hug, the boy jumping onto his lap with so much force that the chair he was sitting in tipped backwards.

They were both already letting out heaps of laughter once Harry’s chair hit the floor and they pretty much went tumbling out of it.  Louis was sweaty, his hair was damp and clinging to his neck in some areas, and his smile was as radiant as the sun as he continued to hug the life out of Harry, burying his face in his shoulder as he wrapped a leg around his thigh.  Harry put everything he had into the hug as he brought the boy in close by his waist, taking a whiff of his homely scent and trying not to tear up at how much he fucking _loved_ him.

“You guys are literally in the middle of the floor, and some of us are trying to walk around,” he heard Marcus say, and he looked up just as the boy stepped a foot over them, making his way toward the refreshment table.  “Get a room perhaps?”

Louis pulled his face away from Harry’s shoulder, both of his elbows by Harry’s head as he braced himself over him.  They remained there for a moment, beaming at one another in absolute elation and breathing heavily with never ending laughter.

“He’s right,” Louis said, before quickly shuffling to get off of Harry and proceeding to grab his hand.  “We _should_ get a room.”

He wasted no time pulling Harry up to his feet, before getting behind the boy and scooting him along.

Harry slowed down his steps, even as Louis continued to try and push him.  “ _Hey_ ,” Harry said defiantly, turning around.  “I _just_ got here, and you already want to pin me down to a bed?”

Louis trailed a finger down Harry’s chest as he got up close to him, before gliding both hands under his jacket and flattening his palms against his back in order to pull him in.  “Don’t act like you don’t _love_ being pinned down—“

“Fuck,” Liam said, and Harry hadn’t even noticed the boy approaching them.  He stood there, his hair extremely mussed, beads of sweat coating the frame of his face, and he winced as he spoke.  “I came over to say hi, but I guess I can’t even do _that_ without having to witness you guys being disgusting.”

Harry made a show of rolling his eyes before moving to pull Liam into a hug, patting the boy’s back as he chuckled into his shoulder.  Before he could even _finish_ hugging Liam, another sweaty body clung onto his back, and arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

“I wanna join in on some of this action,” he heard Niall say as the boy seemed to be smiling into his back.

Harry continued to laugh into the group hug, feeling sufficiently appreciated, as well as missed.

“I guess I’m already forgotten about,” Louis mumbled.

Harry pulled back from the hug, looking pointedly at a now slightly pouty Louis.

“He’s all yours,” Liam complied, giving Harry a rather stern clap on the shoulder before striding away in order to join Marcus in devouring the refreshment table.

 _“Hey_ ,” Niall said, continuing to hook one arm around Harry’s waist.  “This is as close to Zayn as I’m gonna get right now, so I’m taking it.”

Louis nodded with fake understanding, an innocent grin spreading upon his face as he bore his eyes into Niall’s skull.  “Remove that hand from his waist or I’ll break it.”

Without another word, Niall freed all of his attachments from Harry, putting both of his hands up in the air as he backed away.  “And just for that, I call the bottom bunk today.  You don’t get to have it three nights in a row.”

“We’ll see about that later,” Louis retorted, before finally directing his attention to Harry, who now grinned bashfully as overwhelming amounts of adulation consumed him.

He covered his amused, shaky lips with his fingers as he stared at Louis.  “Can’t imagine how much you guys bicker on the tour bus.”

Louis raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, we don’t bicker.  We fight.  Physically.”  He crossed his arms in front of himself before taking a step closer to Harry.

Harry reached out, allowing his fingers to gently caress Louis’ forearm while he slid them down to his wrist, before grabbing Louis’ hand and lifting it in the air as he examined the boy’s fingers purposefully.  “Is—Is that a white Tacori ring I see, Louis _Stop Sending Me Gifts_ Tomlinson?”

Louis pulled his hand back, looking down and directing his grin to the floor. “Just because I _say_ stop sending me gifts, it doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t _like_ them.”

Harry looked up for a moment as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “When the boy says something, he doesn’t really mean it.  Noted, although confusing.”

Louis lifted a hand in order touch the sleeve of Harry’s leather jacket, pulling him near and getting on the tips of his toes so that their noses could touch.  “Although, if you’re gonna keep being charitable…” he started, his voice smooth, melting in Harry’s ears like chocolate.  “I’d much rather you give me _your_ stuff, so that I can smell you whenever I want.”

Harry inched in toward Louis, letting his nose ghost over the boy’s cheek as he smoothed a hand down his arm.  “What do I smell like?”

Louis gracefully let his face burrow into Harry’s shoulder as he sniffed him, causing Harry to giggle with ease.  “Cologne…” he took another gentle whiff, his nose against Harry’s jaw line now.  “Curls…” Louis continued, letting his sniffs wander until he was speaking right against Harry’s lips.  “You.  And I’ve missed you.”

Louis’ warm hand slid up his torso before tenderly moving up to his collar, the boy’s eyes torn between focusing on Harry’s awaiting lips or his yearning eyes.  He then slid his hand across his skin in order to caress the back of his neck, pulling him half an inch closer.  “Missed you so fucking much.” His voice cracked a little as he spoke, which caused Harry’s heart to beat just a second faster.

Harry closed the space between them with a kiss to Louis’ lips, and just like that, everything around them became insignificant.  Harry allowed himself to think of nothing else as he wound his fingers through the boy’s sweaty hair, their tongues gliding against one another as life ceased to exist at every side.

Louis made a choked sound as their lips sucked against one another, and Harry knew it was because he was suppressing the urge to cry.  Even though it was pretty rare for Louis to cry, Harry (and pretty much everyone) was aware that the waterworks _always_ started whenever he missed Harry.  It was usually during times he was away from the tour for brief periods of time, when he would get calls from one of the boys that Louis was sobbing excessively, and that they needed Harry to talk on the phone with him and cheer him up.

He backed Louis into the nearest table as they continued to worship each other’s presence with the joining of their lips, and without thinking, Harry lifted one of Louis’ legs up into his arm so that the boy could sit on top of it.  Louis’ breaths began to become significantly heavier, which indicated that he was severely turned on due to the fact that Harry was being slightly aggressive.  Harry had grown to learn that Louis loved that.

A tap on Harry’s shoulder brought him out of his Louis-worshiping state as he pulled back, looking to the side of him.  He was met with Marcus’ face, along with the eyes of many of the crew members, technicians, and wide eyed strangers who stood behind him, staring at the steamy scene unblinkingly.

“Again,” Marcus said, nodding his head slowly.  “A _room_.”

Harry let out half of a laugh, feeling a bit nervous as he unwound his arm from under Louis’ leg.  “Sorry…”

 

~*~

 

That was how most of Harry’s year off from school went; he stayed on tour with the boys a majority of the time, occasionally taking a week or two off in order to visit home and update Zayn on all things Niall (as though they didn’t constantly text or talk on the phone twenty five hours a day).

It had all been smooth sailing for the most part—that was, until his mother signed him up to volunteer for a prestigious youth charity program that was located near home, _thousands_ of miles away from where Louis was.   She hadn’t even _asked_ him if he’d wanted to do it, although he’d slowly begun to build a tiny little interest in the various charity balls his father took him to, and the grant writing he'd done research on, and—basically aiding the less fortunate and contributing to the greater good, but still.  She could’ve asked.   She’d just _assumed_ that since he had all this free time, that he’d want to do something to occupy himself—something that didn’t involve remaining glued to Louis’ side as much as he was.  There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that his mother held Louis as dear to her heart as her son did, but it was clear that she wasn’t in favor of Harry completely abandoning all of life’s responsibilities in order to be with him.  As much as Harry had to stress to her that _no,_ he didn’t “quit school” because of Louis, he was still fairly certain that she didn’t believe him.

Because of Harry’s sudden engagement with the youth program, he found himself busy for one week, once every month.  The longer periods of separation from Louis were outrageously tough at first, but they both fought through it as they organized specific times in which they would video chat or call one another.

As Harry’s life grew busier, nearly _three weeks_ had passed where he hadn’t seen Louis in person, and obviously, it felt like half a year, due to the distorted sense of time experienced between soulmates.  It was torture on the both of them, and Harry didn’t even want to imagine how all of it was affecting Louis’ stage presence, as well as the energy he put into performing.  As soon as Harry was left with a measly four days off, he didn’t waste a second before buying tickets in order to go and see his boy, who was now on the other side of the world.

On the entire plane ride there, Harry’s fingers had been tingling with utter anticipation for eventually getting to see his boyfriend, the love of his life, his _forever_ , in just a few hours.

He just hadn’t known that a few minutes after reuniting with him, they would’ve been arguing.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Harry yelled, stomping over to catch up with Louis.  He finally caught up to the boy and swiftly turned him around with a hard hand to his shoulder.

Louis set his jaw tight as he attempted to intimidate Harry with his glare.  “If anyone’s being ridiculous, it’s _you!”_  He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, Harry starting to feel his own blood boil.  “Why can’t you ever comply with what _I_ want to do?”

Harry leaned forward in order to get the point across to the boy as he grew increasingly frustrated.  “I’m only here for _three_ _days,_ Louis!”  A few people walking down the city streets amidst the velvety night turned their heads toward them, but Harry didn’t care.  He was going to explode if he continued to keep it all in.

Harry was visiting Louis for a few days all the way in fucking _France_ , and their show for the night had just ended a few minutes before.  Louis and Harry had been over the moon with excitement for getting time to spend with each other, and they’d left the rest of the boys and taken a stroll through the city as they enjoyed each other’s smiles and embraced the sincerity of the moment.

And all of the strong exhilaration rotating in the air around them was wiped away once they got into an argument about how they were going to spend the rest of the night.

Harry had planned—already reserved a _spot_ —for them to go private sightseeing, complete with wine, carnations, and all the cheeses Louis had grown to love, but of course, Louis had wanted to go to a giant party that some famous actor’s reckless son was throwing.

“So what?” Louis asked, flailing his arms.  “We can still spend time together at a party!”

“I just want it to be the two of us,” Harry replied.  “ _Why_ is that so hard for you to understand?”

Louis smacked his teeth before turning around again, stalking down the sidewalk with determination.

Harry didn’t let this deter him as he caught up to the boy again, taking his place in front of him and walking backwards, facing Louis as he spoke.  “I put a lot of time into planning tonight out, and _this_ is how you react.  Wow, Louis.”

Louis came to an abrupt halt as he continued to face Harry.  “Fine.  You go to your fucking fancy, super important wine shit, and I’ll go to the party.  Sound alright?”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he looked down at the space between the tips of their shoes.  “Why did I even come?” he asked through a huff, mostly to himself, his voice low and defeated.

He couldn’t miss the way Louis sucked in a faint breath, and when he looked up, the boy’s face contained a quickly growing amount of hurt and despair.  His lips remained parted as he shook his head, and as always, Harry wondered why he occasionally vomited words he didn’t necessarily mean.

“Louis…”

“Yeah, I agree,” Louis said, voice broken as he shoved past Harry.  “Why _did_ you?  If you wanna go so bad, just _leave_ already!”

Louis walked away much faster now, and Harry didn’t even attempt to move his feet as he stood there, watching Louis’ back grow farther away and become engulfed by the darkness of the sky.  Harry’s chest began to heave with pain as he shook his head at himself.

If Louis was _this_ passionate about going to a ridiculous party that was probably going to get ransacked by the cops at some point, Harry figured he’d let him.  It wasn’t like Harry had been looking forward to this day for _weeks_ or anything.  It wasn’t like Harry would’ve enjoyed admiring the reflection of the moon in Louis’ eyes instead of shooing away sweaty dudes that struggled to grasp the fact that the boy wasn’t _fucking_ single.

Although Harry had already reserved a night for them, he wasn’t going to go by himself.  It was just two thousand dollars that went down the drain.

The boys had opted to stay in hotels instead of tour buses for the night, since they had four days off from the tour in order to relax.  Harry took the long walk of shame down the sidewalk as he went in the direction of the hotel inn, because Louis had given him a key to his room as soon as he’d arrived.

As he walked, hands deep in his pockets and his steps undetermined, he reflected on how this was the exact point where their personalities diverged from one another.  Louis’ idea of fun consisted of drinking (even though Harry had put him on a _strict_ limit which he politely followed), dancing, living on the edge, and being surrounded by wild people with equivalent interests.  _Harry’s_ idea of fun was basically…the complete opposite.  In the past year, Harry had been doing his best to please Louis by allowing himself to be dragged to every party whenever he was in town, and Louis had also been gladly putting forth time to take part in Harry’s interests.  As much as it had potential to cause friction, it’d actually done them both more good than bad, because eventually they didn’t mind doing what the other wanted.  It was as though they now _shared_ these interests, which was why it’d confused Harry when Louis chose to lash out in such an aggressive way.

It’d taken quite some time, but eventually, Harry _did_ start to enjoy most of the parties, because when Louis started to get tipsy, he got handsy and soft, purring sweet words into Harry’s ear and latching onto him everywhere he went.  He could tell Louis also liked going to the fancy restaurants Harry took him to, or watching a movie in a private theatre, or taking a walk in the park, because there was no mistaking the way the boy’s eyes lit up whenever Harry laced their fingers together and pulled him along.  He just didn’t know why Louis was _so_ adamant on going to this _one_ party.

Once he’d reached the hotel building after a forty-five minute walk, he had originally intended to go into Louis’ room, but upon noticing Niall’s door was open across the hall, he went in there instead.

After he took two steps into their suite, he found Niall and Marcus on the couch, playing video games rather violently as they continued to shove each other in an attempt to negatively affect the other’s playing abilities.

Harry stood hesitantly in the doorway, drumming his fingers against the frame.

Niall glanced in Harry’s direction for half a second as he elbowed Marcus in the chest.

“Harry.  You’re here,” Niall said, eyes focused on the screen.  “You bring Zayn with you?”

“He’s at school.  You know that,” Harry replied solemnly, resting his head against the doorframe.

He heard the despair in the way Niall sighed, which wasn’t hard to pick up.  The boy still plastered a grin on his face, although it was so obviously transparent.  Harry could tell that the Niall was slowly deteriorating from the inside, but he was strong; he could get through it.

Niall shrugged.  “Doesn’t hurt to check.”

“Where’s Liam?” Harry asked, crossing his arms as he remained in a thoroughly sad state.

“He went to that party,” Marcus replied.

Harry hesitated for a moment as he shifted on his feet, biting the inside of his cheek.  “Did…Louis go with him?”

“I dunno,” Marcus said.  “Probably.  I have no idea where he is.”

Harry let his eyebrows rise and fall before stepping into the room, shutting the door behind himself and ignoring the ache beginning to prickle in his heart.  “I guess I’ll stay here with you guys, then.”

He ended up doing just that, watching boredly as they continued to aggressively play some basketball related video game and throw colorful curse words at each other.  Harry entertained himself by detangling strands of his own hair and checking for split ends.

He knew that all it took was a simple _call_.  All he had to do was call Louis and ask him where he was, but he didn’t want to seem like the overbearing boyfriend, even though he definitely was.  They both were, and they were aware of it. Whenever the other wasn’t by their side, they watched each other like a hawk.  Harry just didn’t feel like being overbearing was the way to go this time around.  Louis was most likely highly frustrated with him at the moment—he’d probably decline his call anyway.

Harry let another hour pass before he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.  If he couldn’t be with Louis, he would _at least_ be in his hotel room.  Maybe he’d snuggle up into his sheets, drown himself in the scent the boy left in them at the end of the day, after the sweat from all of his rehearsals and concerts were transferred to his bed.

The boy’s room took him less than five seconds to reach, and he slipped the card into the slot in order to let himself in.

He couldn’t say he was surprised to find it messy, even though the boy’d only been checked in for half a day.  Harry bent down and picked up one of the boy’s fuzzy socks off of the ground, nuzzling it to his cheek as he continued to wander around the boy’s suite.

It was a rather fancy room, with glass tables and what looked like pink champagne. Louis probably tried to act like he hated it in order to maintain his rebel image, even though Harry was certain he had most likely already stuffed his bag with all of the luxurious complimentary soaps.

A light breeze brushed upon his face when he entered the bedroom, which took him by surprise a bit.

He didn’t get enough time to dwell on it, however, before his eyes were met with Louis’ crowded room, which was filled to the brim with…Harry’s gifts.  The giant panda bear Harry had sent him was propped against a corner of the wall, the many bouquets of various exotic flowers were artistically scattered over the dresser, floor, and silk bed sheets, the plush, blue heart shaped pillow was on top of the bed, a lot of Harry’s own clothing items, including jackets, sweatpants, sweaters, were all hanging out of the drawer and on the floor, a platter of assorted strawberries that Harry had sent him (mostly eaten), with a peanut butter jar alongside it, rested on top of the mini fridge, a four by two foot intricate painting of a shiny dagger piercing through a blood-red rose (that Harry had paid almost a grand to get done) peaked out from underneath the bed—all of these things, including many more that were dispersed throughout the room, were things Harry had sent him so far.  He felt as though he was walking through a wonderland—a fantasy world, where anniversaries happened five times a day.  Louis had kept _all_ of it, and he probably took everything _everywhere_ with him.

He squeezed the sock in his hand just a little tighter, arms now fallen to his sides as he stared ahead in awe, beginning to smell the apple cinnamon scent of one of the candles he’d bought for him.

He took curious steps around the room, accidentally setting his foot down upon a small stuffed bear that began to sing the chorus of "Drag Me Down" at a squeaky, high pitch.  A grin teased at the corner of his lips as he looked down at the stupid thing, genuinely wondering when he got _this_ ridiculous.

His steps slowed down once he noticed the door to Louis’ balcony was open—and thus, he remembered the teasing sensation of wind against his face when he had initially entered the room. Either Harry was in Louis’ hotel suite with an intruder right now, or Louis was outside.

Harry threw his beloved fuzzy sock toward the general area of discarded clothing, and proceeded to cross his fingers in hopes that he was wrong about the whole intruder thing.

He slowly approached the outside area, and he was pleased, yet a bit disoriented, once he found Louis.  The boy was sitting on the cream colored couch that was set up outside, facing the heart of the city as the wind continued to blow his hair.  He was still fully dressed, clad in Harry’s large navy jacket with converses on his feet, and he sat with both of his shoes on the couch cushions, his knees pointed upward as he drummed his fingers against them.  His gaze was unmoving, focused purely on the area in front of him as he sat idly.  He didn’t even stir once Harry’s footsteps upon the balcony became evident.

“How long have you been out here?” Harry asked, using the gentlest tone he could muster.

The wind continued to spiral around them as they listened to the sound of a car honking in the distance.

As Harry neared the couch, he took a moment to admire the view in front of him.  It was truly breathtaking.  He could see all the magnificent aspects of the city, including the Eiffel Tower as it glistened in the midst of everything.  Harry was used to fantastic views and stunning spectacles, but standing there caused his insides to stir with infatuation for a moment.  It reminded him of how microscopic they were, looking down below at the thousands of different people living their lives in that exact moment.  Two hundred countries in the world, four thousand cities, seven billion people on the _planet_ —and Harry ended up there with Louis, bearing no infinitesimal desire to be anywhere else.

“Two hours,” Louis replied, continuing to look straight ahead.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself and how utterly stupid he was, because he’d literally spent _two hours_ in Niall and Marcus’ room.  He’d just automatically assumed Louis was going to go to the party, but he now realized he should’ve known better.

Harry took a seat on the rather long couch, leaving room between them because of the vibes he was getting from Louis—vibes that were telling Harry to give him a bit of space.

Harry played with the cuff on his black long sleeved shirt, looking ahead as well.  “Didn’t go to the party?”

Louis inhaled deeply before sighing, finally turning to look at the side of Harry’s face.  “Nope.  Wasn’t in the mood anymore.”

Harry shifted until his back was rested against the seat, and he let the side of his face rest against the cushion so he could look at Louis.  “I’m sorry.”

Louis didn’t say anything, instead opting to fumble with his fingers in his lap.

There were definitely ways in which they were both wrong, but Harry deeply regretted what he said nonetheless.  He of all people _knew_ how hard it was for Louis whenever they were apart, so for him to question why he’d even come to visit his own boyfriend had been taking it pretty far.

Louis shook his head, letting out another long breath.  “You don’t have to apologize.  I was being stupid.  _I’m_ sorry.”

“No, you weren’t,” Harry replied quickly, his eyebrows creasing.  “I shouldn’t have hit a nerve like that…I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Louis replied softly, looking down at his jumbled hands.  “It still hurt.”

Harry slowly shifted so that he could lay on his back against the couch, the crown of his head now an inch away from Louis’ hips.  He stared up at the boy with innocent eyes, continuing to blink slowly at him as Louis struggled to suppress a fond grin.

Harry reached out, brushing his knuckles against Louis’ thigh as the boy’s feet remained propped up on the couch.  He allowed every syllable to flow sweetly off of his tongue as he spoke slowly.  “I’m sorry baby.”

He was fully prepared for the way Louis’ eyes immediately moved in order to meet his.  Harry grinned smugly as Louis’ lips quirked up a tiny bit.

“Say it again,” Louis said, his voice endlessly soft and sweet in Harry’s ears.

Harry did as told, bringing his voice half an octave lower as he spoke even slower, because he _knew_ exactly what effect this had on Louis.  “I’m sorry _baby_.”

The light had come back to Louis’ face once he grinned, pure endearment smeared all over his expression as he beamed down at Harry like the stars themselves.  “Again.”

The word came out with a bit of a melody when Harry repeated it, reaching out to gently grip Louis’ thigh.  “ _Baby_.”

Louis patted his lap, prompting Harry to scoot up the couch a bit so he could lift his head to rest on top of the boy’s thighs.  Louis ducked his head down, their noses ghosting over one another as he whispered “Again”.

“Baby,” Harry repeated, closing his eyes as Louis worked his delicate fingers through his curly hair.  As Louis continued to bring his face closer to Harry’s, burying his fingers in the boy’s hair and gradually pulling him in, Harry took the liberty of saying it again, just for good measure.  “ _Baby_.”

Louis leaned down and kissed him, their lips folding over one another briefly, although it was a tad difficult because Harry was sideways, and also because of the fact that they both couldn’t stop smiling.

“I love you,” Harry murmured against his lips, before pecking him again.

Louis carded his fingers through his hair, Harry opening his eyes and gazing up at him dreamily.  It _did_ feel like a dream, because the stars were shining behind Louis’ head, providing Harry with the most stunningly accurate view of how the boy was the center of his universe.  All the stars surrounded him, glistening brightly, although not anywhere near as brightly as the smile right in front of Harry’s face.

Louis moved to press his lips against Harry’s forehead with a tender peck.  “I love you too.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Harry whispered.

“I don’t know what I did _before_ you,” Louis replied.

“I can’t function without you.”

“I don’t even know who I _am_ without you,” Louis said, and Harry wondered for a moment if the boy was trying to one-up him, like always.

Harry swallowed before speaking again, his voice so low it almost couldn’t be heard.  “Please don’t be mad at me.”  His eyes were slightly wet as he gave Louis a pleading look, all the emotions and guilt starting to hit him with way too much force.

Louis shook his head as he swallowed as well.  “I’m not.”

“I just…” Harry started, closing his eyes for a moment.  “I wanted to do something where it was just two of us.  Nobody else, no _guys_ trying to pull you, nothing to distract me from why I’m _here_.  I came here for you, and nothing else.”

Louis sighed wistfully, his fingers continuing to move through Harry’s hair.  “I was…I _like_ doing that stuff with you,” Louis practically whispered.  “Actually…I kinda…I like doing it more than the other stuff.”

Harry knit his eyebrows in confusion.

Louis shook his head a little.  “It scares me a bit, because I feel like I’m shedding parts of my former self.  Like…I despise partying a bit now.” He chewed his bottom lip in concentration.  “Who even _am_ I?”

Harry chuckled lightly.  “I asked myself the same thing when I left that one party a little drunk—“

“A little?” Louis asked, poking Harry in the armpit.  “It was your first time properly drinking, and you were completely _trashed_. Never again."

Harry rolled his eyes as he continued.  “I was a _little_ drunk, thank you very much.  And I actually…felt like I had a good time.  I still despise the handsy boys—“

“Which I can handle on my own,” Louis finished, looking at Harry pointedly.

Harry nodded.  “I know.  We’ve discussed it.”

“I guess I just…” Louis continued, sighing as he shook his head.  “I just wanted to convince myself that I haven’t changed.  That I’m still me, and not just some additional part of you.”

There was a long silence that lingered between them, but they both continued to stare at each other, fully understanding every single aspect of this conversation without even speaking.  Harry was almost terrified at the fact that, even after all this time, Louis still shocked him when he managed to pinpoint his exact emotions perfectly.

Harry’s whisper was softer than the wind when he spoke.  “That’s how I feel too.”

“I guess we’re just…” Louis started, shrugging his shoulders loosely.  “Warming up to the different sides of each other…slowly going from contrasting personalities to intertwined spirits.” There was a pause where Harry was seriously about to pinch him for being so hilariously philosophical, and Louis was staring off into space in thought. "Sort of like the knife and the rose, eh?" Louis suddenly added with a nudge. 

"It's a dagger."

"I'm not having this conversation with you again," Louis replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "I _know_ a knife when I see one."

Harry grinned with amusement, loving how passionate Louis always got about this debate. "Obviously, you don't."

"So I suppose you cut your onions with daggers?"

Harry scoffed, even though he couldn’t help but smile.

“This is it, Harold,” Louis said, before bringing his voice down to a whisper.  “The final stage.  Soon we’ll morph into one weird, giant superhuman, with babyish dimples and beautiful curves.”

“Shut up,” Harry laughed, shoving Louis lightly.  “Although you _do_ have beautiful curves.  And thighs.  And hands.  Pretty much everything.”

Louis grinned as he looked down at himself, apparently checking to see if Harry was speaking the truth.

He brought two of his fingers up to Harry’s skin and gently trailed them down his chest, bringing them to rest at the collar of his shirt as Harry continued to stare longingly at him.

“I have beautiful hands?” Louis asked teasingly, undoing the first of four buttons at the top of Harry’s shirt.

Harry closed his eyes as he allowed Louis to undo the rest of his buttons in a swift manner, stroking his fingers against his chest where the skin was now bare.  “Yes,” he whispered, already subdued by Louis’ very touch.

Louis slowly curved his right arm under Harry’s back, his left one also curving under the backs of his knees.

“Yes _what_?” Louis asked gently, already moving in order to stand up from the couch.

Harry grasped onto the jacket Louis was wearing as he felt himself being carried through the air, and he buried his word into the crook of Louis’ neck.  “Baby.”

Even though Louis had carried him bridal style a considerable amount of times by now, Harry was still startled with amazement whenever it happened, because it only reminded him of how oddly strong Louis was.  It aroused Harry in _many_ ways, as well as intimidated him in others.

Harry squealed as Louis abruptly lifted his arms in order to hoist Harry up higher as he made his way back into the hotel suite.

When he was gently placed at the foot of the bed in Louis’ bedroom, Harry immediately brought Louis in by the back of his neck, sealing their lips together as Louis stood in between his legs.

“I have something for you,” Harry breathed against his mouth in between kisses.

Louis pulled back, continuing to rest his forehead against Harry’s as he sighed.  “Another gift?”

“Shut up, you love them,” Harry replied with a roll of his eyes.  “But you’ll love this one even more.”

He’d been meaning to give this gift to Louis as soon as he’d met up with him backstage at their show, but clearly, he’d gotten sidetracked for a moment because of some petty disagreement.  He reached into his back pocket as Louis rested both of his palms on either of Harry’s knees, a cheeky grin on his face.

He pulled out a tiny black box, gently removing the cover from it as Louis looked down at it with masked anticipation.  Harry reached into the box with steady hands, pulling out the single, tiny gold chain necklace with a golden guitar pick attached to it.

Louis’ eyes seemed to gloss over as Harry dangled it in front of his face, and Harry couldn’t help but smile, because that was the exact reaction he had been looking for.

Harry had gotten the initials _L.T._ engraved on the golden guitar pick, and the cursive letters shone beautifully as it continued to rotate in the air.

“The pick detaches from the necklace,” Harry said, before laughing lightly.  “I know you lose your guitar picks sometimes, so you can just wear this, and you’ll always know where it is.”

“Fuck…” Louis breathed, reaching out to touch the chain of the necklace.  His fingers barely brushed against it, as though he felt it was far too elegant to stain with his touch.  “You’re so…Why are you like this?” Louis asked, beginning to choke as he moved to sit on top of one of Harry’s legs.  His eyes were clearly watery now as he took the necklace from Harry, observing it more closely.  His voice was weak, wavering as he tried to stifle any tears.  “You just—you're entirely too good to me, Harry.”

Harry could feel the blush all over his own face as he snuck his arm around Louis’ waist.  Louis suddenly worked to unhook the back of the necklace, and Harry watched him with slight puzzlement.  When Louis moved to place the necklace around _Harry’s_ neck, securing the chain at the back, Harry was certain he was flushed from head to toe.

“Whenever you’re here, I want _you_ to wear it,” Louis said, bringing his forehead to rest against Harry’s again.  “That way, my guitar pick will always be right under my nose. Thank you.”

Harry sat there, breathless and mystified as he basked in the moment with Louis, breathed the boy’s air, lost himself in his presence.

Louis brought up one hand, barely touching Harry’s cheek as he embraced it, before shifting so that he could bring his knees to either side of the boy’s hips.  “God, you'll never understand how in love I am with you.”

Harry’s lips followed languidly as Louis kissed him, feeling dizzy with passion as the boy continued to cradle his cheeks.

“Gonna kiss you all over,” Louis breathed as Harry scooted back on the bed.  Louis crawled forward with every inch that Harry shuffled backward, bringing a giggle out of Harry’s lips in between the moments where their lips were connected.  “Everywhere…” he whispered, moving his lips so that he could lick and suck against the side of Harry’s neck, Harry already moving to push Louis’ jacket off over his shoulders.  “Gonna show you how much I love you with these beautiful hands.”

Harry hummed with satisfaction, pulling the boy as close to his body as possible as desire began to prickle deep within his bones.  As the moon continued to sing, the stars providing gentle echoes, he let Louis have him in a way no one else could, and ever would.

The boy even fulfilled his promise of kissing Harry everywhere, spending _extra_ time on his favorite spot on Harry’s body—the dagger and rose tattoo at the top of his spine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


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